


A Beauteous Cozening

by Rheynin



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheynin/pseuds/Rheynin
Summary: When Paladin Danse brings a new recruit aboard the Prydwen, Maxson should be impressed. She’s the best of everything the Brotherhood values. Instead, he refuses to believe someone like her could actually be as good as she seems, something she doesn’t take lightly. Things get worse when the Brotherhood Elder finds her constantly in his thoughts.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse & Arthur Maxson, Paladin Danse & Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 54
Kudos: 84





	1. Stranger Tides

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this is a little side project I couldn’t get out of my head. I plan to keep writing, but I don’t know how often I’ll be able to update. Stick with me, though! It’s one hell of a story . . . .

Impeccable. Focused. Outstanding. That’s how Paladin Danse had described the initiate, the one he was sponsoring. Fox Greenwood. He seriously doubted that Initiate Greenwood could possibly be as incredible as Danse described them, though he respected his judgement as a general rule. But to believe that some wasteland scavenger, a stranger who’d wandered in off the streets, could so easily blow their way through a veritable battalion of synths and not even receive an injury? It strained credulity to the breaking point. 

Perhaps sending the Paladin off alone the way he had, with such a small team into such dangerous territory, had pushed him a bit too far. He’d read the reports, seen the descriptions of man after man falling from his team. Though he’d faced worse and clawed his way through it, maybe his old friend was losing it a bit. Cade had told him that Danse hadn’t been sleeping well of late, so the stress may finally be taking its toll. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Maxson downed a shot of whiskey, flinching subtly at the burn, and prepared himself to meet the newest member of the Brotherhood of Steel. The flame of alcohol tended to make these meetings more tolerable, keep him from noticing the thousands of reasons the Initiate probably wouldn’t last the month. He’d rarely turn someone away. Most joined because they needed food, or shelter, or safety. He wouldn’t deny them that. But watching them fall, when he’d grown to care about them already, it was too much. Even for him.

The rhythmic clanking of boots told him that the officers were lining behind him, and, judging by one particularly heavy set of steps, Danse and Greenwood were among them. They hung in the back, neither officially in attendance, and waited while he gave his speech. Then, as the recruits filed out around them, Danse caught his attention, giving him the single nod of greeting they usually shared. He returned it, then faced outward again, letting his eyes roam across the Commonwealth that was now his to protect.

“Elder Maxson? I’ve brought Initiate Greenwood, as asked.”

“Thank you, Paladin. That will be all.”

A quiet grunt of acknowledgement, and he heard Danse’s footsteps retreating into the distance, pausing to give a few words to the Initiate. Once he was sure they were alone, he turned.

He couldn’t say what, exactly, he’d expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t what was before him. She looked like she should be in a prewar magazine or advertisement, not standing on the Prydwen, preparing for the fight of her life. To start with, her skin was completely devoid of the weathering and scars that the irradiated world tended to provide. There wasn’t even a wrinkle on her face, for god’s sake, her skin as smooth as an infants. She looked almost . . . manicured, her pale red hair pulled into a curled ponytail, parted heavily to the side with the slightest suggestion of a pompadour. Smooth, perfectly shaped eyebrows perched over grey eyes that were framed by thick, curling eyelashes. Her figure was mostly obscured by the loose, green jumpsuit she wore, but the belt she’d tied around her waist suggested the pinch in a full, hourglass figure. Her fists were perched on her hips, spreading the open neck of her jumpsuit wider, and Maxson noticed uncomfortably that he could see a swath of her cleavage. She cleared her throat forcefully, drawing his attention back to her face and the smirk on her lips.

“Finished eyeing me up so we can talk business, Elder?”

If any other soldier had given him that kind of lip, he’d have been on the floor doing push-ups for the next hour. Instead, he found himself flushed beneath his beard, the dark heat of embarrassment crawling up his chest. He had been eyeing her up, and he hadn’t even realized it. To cover his embarrassment, he turned back to the view of the Commonwealth.

“Paladin Danse wrote up quite the report on you, Initiate.” He paused, clasping his hands behind his back. “Exactly how many synths did you take down personally?”

“Couldn’t say, sir. I lost track. Too busy saving your Paladin’s ass.”

“Paladin Danse, as a general rule, does not need saving. None of my soldiers do. My soldiers are well trained, the pinnacle of humanity. My soldiers do not need to be saved, they are the ones who do the saving.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m one of your soldiers now. Sir.”

Mocking him. She was mocking him. 

He turned, stalking towards her angrily. He positively loomed over her, she barely came up to his shoulders, yet even when he leaned in her face, she didn’t flinch. Just stared, hands still firmly propped on her hips.

“I will state it plainly. I do not believe for one moment that you actually achieved even half of what’s written in Paladin Danse’s report. My best soldiers, one of whom happens to be Danse himself, couldn’t achieve what you did. In addition to that, you were reckless, powering up an antiquated rocket booster while one of my soldiers was still in the room! If not for Danse’s power armor, he would be a crumbling pile of dust right now!”

She squared her shoulders, putting her hands behind her back in imitation of his own stance. Then she stared forward, straight through him, and began to recite in an emotionless tone.

“Power armor is well known throughout the Commonwealth to be able to stand far higher temperatures than a simple rocket booster, however experimental, would reach. Scribe Haylen made it perfectly clear to me that the transmitter from said location was essential to reaching you, sir. Paladin Danse ordered that the transmitter should be obtained at any cost, sir. That is what was achieved, sir. Also, sir, if you’ll notice, I managed to locate the missing soldiers on my own, sir, reclaiming their holotags and a holotape from each, sir, to provide their loved ones, sir, when several other groups sent out found nothing. Sir. Also, sir, I located the only survivor, and convinced him, sir, to return to the Brotherhood, sir.” Each ‘sir’ she uttered was spat out with more sarcasm and insolence, until she was sneering at him, and his blood was boiling.

“Technically speaking, all of that is true. That is why I have no choice but to promote you. But between us, I know that something is going on. There is no possible way that someone like . . . you could have done all of those things.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Would you care to explain that comment to me?”

“No,” he turned, walking away from her, “I wouldn’t. Knight, you are dismissed.”

Fox stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. When she found Danse, he was in the mess hall waiting. One look at her face, and he knew she was pissed.

“Something wrong, Initiate?”

She frowned. “Knight now, actually. He promoted me.” She threw herself down in a chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Isn’t that cause for celebration?”

Cutting her eyes over towards him, she huffed. “Not when he makes it perfectly clear that he doesn’t believe you actually did everything he’s promoting you for.”

“Ah.”

Danse sat down across from her, putting his hands on the table.

“Elder Maxson is . . . complicated.” She rolled her eyes at him, and he shrugged it off with a small smile. “I’ve known the man half his life, and for all of it, people have placed incredibly high expectations on him. He is, after all, the direct descendant of the man who started the Brotherhood of Steel in the first place. His only living descendant, actually. They say his soul is forged of eternal steel . . . .” Danse chuckled, shaking his head. “Can you believe that there are groups out there that want to worship him like a god?”

“So that’s where his ego comes from.”

“Nothing could be farther from the truth. Maxson doesn’t want to be worshipped. Hell, I’m not sure he even wants to be Elder. But it’s what’s expected of him, so he takes it as seriously as he can. But he’s still just a man, and barely that. You know, he’s only twenty.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’ll excuse your language due to the shock,” Danse laughed, “but, yes, he’s twenty, despite looking much older. A great deal has been placed on his shoulders in a short time, and he’s never had the luxury of complacency. He’s hard because he has to be. He’s really a boy that’s had to be a man from necessity.”

“That explains his wandering eyeballs, anyway,” she muttered.

“What was that, Knight?”

Sighing, she shook her head. “Nothing, Danse.”

After that, Danse introduced her to the rest of the crew members she’d be working with on a regular basis. They were mostly fine, although Knight-Captain Cade didn’t seem impressed by her sense of humor, and somehow managed to miss the fact that she was a pre-war relic. She also didn’t exactly trust Teagan. He seemed . . . creepy, and far too happy with the prospect of taking food from innocent people.

They were heading back to the mess hall when an Initiate stopped Danse to whisper in his ear. Danse gave a quick nod, then turned to Fox while the Initiate marched away.

“We need to return to Elder Maxson. He has a mission for us.”

She trailed behind reluctantly, not exactly eager to return to his presence. It’s not like she wasn’t used to stares, even propositions and unwelcome hands on her. It’s just that, usually, it was acceptable for her to put a bullet in them when they did. She had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well if she shot Elder Maxson.

Her unease and reluctance turned into outright dread when they met him on the flight deck. He turned to her with a grin like the cat who’d eaten the canary.

“Well, Knight Greenwood,” he sneered, looking particularly nasty, “since I know you’re eager to prove yourself the force that Danse has lead me to expect, its time for me to give you your first official mission.”

He paced a bit, clearly trying to let her stew in her own fears, but all it did was annoy her.

“At Fort Strong, there’s a large supply of nuclear weapons. Those weapons would be invaluable to us in defense of the Commonwealth. They also happen to be sitting beneath a horde of Super Mutants, and one incredibly angry Behemoth.”

Really? This was his big test? There had to be more to it than that.

He continued. “You and Paladin Danse will clear the aberrations from Fort Strong, and secure the weapons for the Brotherhood. You will go alone. We have a vertibird on standby. You are dismissed.”

He clenched his teeth, watching her leave. It had been foolish to send the two of them in like that, letting his anger get the best of him. He didn’t worry about their safety- Danse would get them out, he knew. But he’d made a mistake. First with Danse’s crew, and now, with this. If he didn’t start shaping up, he’d be no better than anyone else who’d run this show. That wasn’t the legacy he wanted to leave behind. He was a Maxson, the Brotherhood of Steel was his life, his blood. He would make it the organization it had once been, even if it killed him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.


	2. The Devil Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *some minor smut herein*

Thanks to the minigun, the Behemoth and most of the Super Mutants outside of the Fort were dead before they even landed. The rest, Fox and Danse took out as they worked their way towards the building. Just like they’d done in ArcJet, Danse drew most of their attention while Fox crept through the shadows, landing silent bullets one after the other in their skulls. She was small enough to hide in places he couldn’t, slipping through cracks and crevices in near complete silence. He, on the other hand, had his power armor to protect him, and to give him strength enough for any challenge.

They were a perfect team.

She took the lead inside, moving quietly through the debris to scout ahead. When she found Mutants, she counted, signaling their number and positions to Danse. Then she began, firing from the dark recesses until they were gone, before they ever realized where she was. To Danse, it was a thing of absolute beauty, ruthless extermination of something that should never have been allowed to exist in the first place. And she hardly even broke a sweat.

When the place was cleared and the nukes located, Danse took a long look around, turning to her with a broad smile.

“Look at this place. You must hate Super Mutants as much as I do.”

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing dirt across it and down her cheek.

“Bastards want to take out the human race. Think they’re better than we are. Sure as hell do.”

He laughed heartily, watching the way the corner of her mouth turned up in a sly half smile. She was genuinely lovely, a prewar beauty who’d adapted perfectly to her new surroundings. If he’d been interested in a relationship at all, he’d have wasted no time in pursuing her, sweeping her off her feet and letting her know what a rare treasure she was. But the Brotherhood was his life, and it always would be. His dedication there meant he couldn’t be the partner she deserved to have. Besides, she was newly widowed, chasing after her stolen son, she’d told him as much on their way to the Prydwen.

“Listen,” he put a hand on her shoulder gently, “you should probably get back to the Prydwen, let Elder Maxson know that we were successful in securing the weapons. I’ll wait here until they can be collected.”

Fox groaned loudly, throwing her head back.

“Danse, Maxson hates me already. He thinks I’m not capable of being a good soldier for his little army- reminds me of nearly every boy I met in high school.”

“Then stop sulking like a petulant little girl. Get back up there and show him what you’re capable of. You and I both know I’d never have made it through ArcJet without you watching my back, and I’d never have been as successful here. Maxson will come around.”

“If you say so . . . .”

“I do. Now get back to the vertibird and report to Maxson.” He tipped his chin down to give her a pointed look. “That’s an order, Greenwood.”

Maxson leaned back in his chair, putting his hand across his face. He was thinking about Knight Greenwood, for at least the twelfth time since he’d sent her off with Danse a few hours ago.

“Would you care to explain that comment to me?”

He gritted his teeth. The insolence. He explained himself to no one. He didn’t have to, he was the Elder.

“Finished eyeing me up so we can talk business, Elder?”

The nerve. ‘Eying her up’- as if he was some callow boy who couldn’t control himself. As if it were her place to suggest that he’d been watching her, taking in her form and figure, the fire in her eyes.

As if he wasn’t getting hard right now, just thinking about her.

It was maddening, the way she had already wormed her way under his skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her, and he hated her for it, almost as much as he wanted her in the first place. She was his soldier, goddammit, and one with a fucking smart mouth, on top of it.

Let’s see how smart her mouth is with my tongue inside of it.

Fuck. Maxson hated it, the thought of wanting someone, tying himself to them, thinking of their wants and their needs. It was weakness, pure and simple. Certainly, as the only survivor of the original Maxson bloodline, he’d be expected to marry, produce an heir. But the Brotherhood would see to that, and they’d be certain to pick someone polite and demure, someone who would understand that the Brotherhood was his job, his life, his past and future. They would expect nothing of him. Someone suitable to take his seed, continue the bloodline, and leave him be.

Someone who wouldn’t excite him the way she did. Who didn’t put the same fire in his belly or iron in his lap.

And the iron in his lap was standing tall now, thinking of the way she’d mouthed off to him, the way her eyes burned with fury. She didn’t bend when he pushed her, she pushed right back, giving whatever he gave her in spades. Would she fuck with that same intensity, biting his lip in her passion? Tear her nails down his back, draw blood with her teeth in his shoulder? The thought, the idea of it alone had him pressing his hand between his legs, stroking himself through the thin material of his flight suit. 

Self-pleasure was somewhere he felt on solid ground. He knew what worked for him, what got him off, and he didn’t have to concern himself with anyone else. If he lasted thirty seconds or three hours, no one would be upset or disappointed, no one would expect the same thing to happen again, no one would look at his desires and think there was something wrong with him. He was perfectly capable of satisfying himself, just as he was doing right now, thick fingers gripping his thicker cock, rubbing the silken material of his flight suit against his sensitive tip. As he gently stroked the underside, his breathing quickened, and he pictured Fox in front of him, perched on a chair, at rapt attention. Her eyes fixed on him as he sat before her, naked, while she was fully clothed. He’d be rubbing himself just like he was doing right now, letting her watch him, transfixed. Then, with that sweet, dry voice of hers, she’d start purring instructions, telling him where to touch, how fast to move. 

His free hand roamed his chest, searching for the zipper to his suit while he stroked himself faster beneath his desk. Normally, if he decided to indulge himself like this during the day, he’d take the precaution of locking his door, lining his suit with something to catch his spend, and keeping himself tucked away, but this was so deliciously, unexpectedly arousing that he needed something a little more direct. Besides, he’d given orders he was not to be disturbed until Danse and Greenwood returned, and that wouldn’t be for a few hours yet.

His zipper was halfway down and he was panting heavily, knowing he’d cum the second he got his hand around himself, when there was a sudden knock at the door.

“Elder Maxson? I’m here to make my report.”

His eyes flew open as he heard the rattling of the knob, the familiar voice ringing in his ears. Surely it wasn’t- but then, everyone else would have waited for an invitation. Of course it was her. Greenwood. The exact woman he’d just been thinking about, and would have continued thinking about while he came all over his hand, if she hadn’t shown up in the flesh.

There wasn’t any time for him to do more than slam both of his hands on top of his desk, nearly knocking over a glass in the process, before she was through the door, pushing it closed behind her. Though it was customary for him to stand before the soldier made their report, he thought that, in this particular instance, he ought to remain seated. He didn’t like the idea of her looking down at him instead of the reverse, but it was better than the alternative. Knowing she’d at least be aware of his breathlessness, he tried to cover it by coughing. Unfortunately, that resulted in her crossing the room, concerned, towards him. He held up a hand to stop her halfway there.

“Enough.” He cleared his throat, a steely stare meeting her exasperated eye roll. “Report, Knight Greenwood.”

“The Mutants have been dealt with, Elder.” She held his cold gaze with one of her own. “And the weapons have been secured. Paladin Danse is guarding them as we speak, awaiting transport.”

He couldn’t stop the way his eyes bulged at the unexpected news.

“Knight Greenwood, do you mean to tell me that you’ve taken out a Behemoth, cleared the grounds of the remaining Super Mutants, and both located and secured the weapons all in the span of a few hours?”

She tried to hide the smirk as she replied, “I do indeed, Sir. Would have taken less time, but Paladin Danse can only move so fast in his power armor.”

His jaw worked silently as he considered her words. He’d expected this mission to be a failure, the two of them returning later in the evening, with her perhaps a bit more humble. Then he’d send an actual retrieval team after the weapons. Instead, the two of them had accomplished what he’d normally send five to do.

He gave a single quick jerk of his head. “Dismissed, Knight. Please send the pilot of the vertibird after you.”

He watched her leave, frowning, trying to ignore the infuriating, aching heat between his legs. Why in the hell did watching her get pissed off at him work him up so much? She was a soldier. He had no right looking at her that way, nor letting these . . . feelings well up inside of him.

When he asked the pilot, he fully confirmed her story that things were handled, adding in quite a few details about the way she’d handled the minigun and silently took out the Super Mutants as he’d seen. He couldn’t stop grinning as he described it all, proud beyond belief that he’d been able to witness it. When he was done, he took a deep breath, meeting Maxson’s eyes for the first time.

“Permission to speak freely, Elder?”

Maxson raised an eyebrow. Though not unheard of, asking to speak freely to him was a rare occurrence.

“Granted.”

“Elder Maxson, sir? Knight Greenwood is a force to be reckoned with. She makes the rest of us look like children, sir.”

He nodded once, then dismissed him, waiting until the door had closed behind him before pounding his fist on the desk, swearing. He’d hoped that, by the end of the day, he’d have some evidence that Fox wasn’t who she claimed to be, or at least who Danse insisted she was. He needed it. Because if it was true, if she was actually as deadly as she was beautiful, then he was in serious trouble.


	3. Spider & Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretty much just smut- also, it isn’t quite what it seems*

“Greenwood? What are you doing in my office?”

Arthur Maxson looked at the Knight where she sat perched on his desk, legs crossed, leaning back on her hands. She’d changed into one of the regulation flight suits, but, given the way the material clung to her body, he really wished she’d left on the coveralls. The damn suit looked like it was made to fit her, accentuating every soft curve, stretched tight across her breasts even with the zipper pulled down between them. The way it fell open above them, showing off the delicacy of her collarbones and long line of her neck, held him in thrall, taunting him, begging him to trace the length of it with his tongue. He was already hardening, and soon it would be obvious to her.

She threw her head back, a wave of laughter like warm saltwater washing over his body.

“Oh, please, Maxson. I’ve seen the way you look at me.” She uncrossed her legs, tilting them sideways to keep them held together at the knees. “Watching me at every moment, your eyes roaming my body when you think I can’t see. The way they follow the sway of my hips. The hungry way they widen when I bend over in front of you.”

Redness crept into his cheeks. “I’m sure I don’t-“

“Let’s not play games.” She sat up straighter, twisting her shoulders in a way that opened her suit a little wider and pressed her breasts together for a better view. “The fact is, Elder, that you want me.”

The silken way she’d called him ‘Elder’, practically purring, drew his cock to full attention, straining at the seam of his suit. She glanced between his legs, letting out a soft, rippling peal of laughter. Maybe he should’ve felt ashamed, but the only thing he could focus on was that open slip of her suit, and the bounce of her breasts as she laughed. She stretched out one supple leg, rubbing the top of her foot against him, and the salacious groan it drew had her smirking.

“And if I didn’t know it already, that certainly would have let me know.”

He glared at her beneath dark eyebrows. “What is it that you want, Knight,” he spit. Dammit, the way she had him pulsing in his suit, aching for her just pissed him off. He ought to toss her out on her ass, take care of himself.

Then she reached up, taking her zipper between two fingers and pulling down slowly as she leaned back, spreading her legs.

He couldn’t help himself. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and she was the only damn thing that would satisfy the burning hunger inside of him. In one swift motion, he was on her, one hand drawing down the back of her suit while the other hooked behind her knee, pulling her against him. As his teeth pressed against the column of her throat, she grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head back. For one brief moment, they lay there panting, eyes locked, as he lay between her thighs.

Then she slapped him.

He reeled backwards, off balance just enough to make it easy for her to put him on his back on the desk, in the place she’d laid moments earlier. With a snarl, she pinned his hands beside his head, her face nearly touching his, and he was entirely too stunned to move, or even object. Slowly, she ran her tongue along that delicious bottom lip of hers, then leaned to whisper in his ear, the shiver of her breath raising goosebumps along his skin.

“You don’t touch unless I tell you to, understand?”

She leaned back, waiting for his nod before releasing his hands. He left them where they were, not daring to even move them. For that, he was rewarded with the velvet of her cheek ghosting over the red welt forming on the side of his face, the weight of her breasts on his chest. Her tongue trailed lightly over the mark next, as she nuzzled her way down, whispering kisses across his beard, down his neck, and into the hollow of his throat. Her fingers slipped between them, tracing his length, working around the swollen rim of his head as he lay breathless with the sheer pleasure of it.

When he felt the sharp sting of her teeth against his shoulder, his hands balled into fists beside his head as he flexed, a strangled groan ripping from within. He was straining painfully against the fabric now, using every ounce of self-control not to buck his hips up against her. Much more of her teasing, coupled with the delicious sting of her nails and teeth, and he’d be finished anyway.

Her eyes flitted across his face, noting the way it twisted in ecstasy as she touched him, and she sat up. His eyes flew open at the sudden loss of contact, and he nearly whimpered. Him, whimpering. Like a damn boy. He would have complained, or at least commented, but she chose that moment to lean forward and kiss him, a biting, bruising kiss that took his breath away as she slipped her fingers between his. Pulling his hands down, she placed them at her waist, letting go to brace herself against the desk.

“You want to touch my ass? Rub your hands all over it, squeeze it and watch me squirm?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes.”

She smiled, wiggling her hips beneath his hands until he began moving them of his own accord. They roamed those precious curves, marveling at the softness, the warmth, the weight of them in his hands. He spread his fingers wide, hands covering her ass almost completely, and squeezed hard. Her eyes closed above him as she bit her lip, and he squeezed harder, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. This time, he got a soft, gasping moan, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward in a smile. She was squirming now, alright, looking for more of his delectable bruising grip, clearly enjoying the pain. Instead, he held his palms away, watching the desperation on her face, the way she arched her back and tensed, seeking more. Raising one hand high, he brought it down in a hard, stinging slap that jolted her forward, eyes wide, as it rang through the room. She sat up across his chest, but not before he’d heard the way it had made her moan.

“Tsk, tsk. That was very naughty, Elder.” She said in that sensual purr of hers. “Now you’re going to have to be . . . punished.”

He watched, his pulse pounding in his veins, as she slid one hand over her exposed breasts, teasing her already hard nipples, then down over her stomach and into her suit. Her eyes were locked on his as her hand moved between her legs, her body rocking with the same rhythmic motion. As she began moaning, her free hand moved over her breast, massaging it.

“Mmmm . . . don’t you wish this was you, Maxson? Your fingers against me, touching me, feeling how wet I am?” She laughed softly. “And I am so wet, Maxson. Practically soaking through the suit. All for you.”

She pulled her hand out, showing him the way it glistened, practically dripping with her arousal.

“You really think this is a punishment for me? Watching how beautiful you look while you touch yourself, the way your breasts sway and learning how you like to be touched?”

She responded by sliding her slick fingers into his open mouth, brushing them across his tongue. Immediately, he closed his mouth around them, sucking and licking until every remnant of her taste was gone. When she pulled them away, he breathed out heavily.

“Fuck.”

“That’s what I thought,” she smirked, his eyes locked on her hand, mouth hanging open, desperate. “You want more?”

She smiled sweetly at him from where she sat across his chest, waiting for his answer, him too stunned to respond. His brain swirled with heady desire, lust clouding his thoughts. God, of course he wanted more. The sweet taste of her musk lingered on his tongue, taunting him the same way her eyes were, daring him to make the wrong move. Seconds passed, and he still hadn’t spoken, or done so much as nod. She twisted her mouth, shaking her head in mock sadness.

“I guess not.”

She moved to slide off of him, reaching to pull her zipper up as she did, and Maxson thought he’d never moved so fast in his life. He shot to a sitting position, arms wrapping around her and slamming her body against his chest. He held her so fiercely she thought he might crush her in his passion, and the thought sent a wave of lust rippling through her body, intensifying the wet heat between her legs. With a soft, huffing laugh, she traced her fingers delicately down the side of his face. This hard, rough man, made so gentle and desperate beneath her. She could get used to this. Especially when he opened his mouth, eyes searching hers, and breathed out quietly.

“More.”

Another laugh breathed over his head as she tangled her fingers in his hair, raising herself to her knees. Her breasts pressed against his face, soft, warm, begging for his mouth. He obliged, trailing his rough tongue over the hardened peak of her nipple, rewarded with a sweet groan as he sucked. The faster his tongue moved, the harder her hips rolled against him, the more desperate her moans grew, until once again he felt the delicious sting of her pulling at his hair, drawing his head back to meet his mouth with a hungry kiss. He pulled away, pressing his face back against her breasts, moving his mouth to the other to tease and nip. Each time his teeth met the tender pink flesh, her moans grew louder, into desperate cries as he growled against her skin.

“Maxson . . . .”

She moaned his name like a prayer, her body writhing against his as she worked the fabric of his suit down his shoulders, near tearing it in her eagerness. She needed him, needed his skin, his flesh, the heat of his body against hers. He returned the favor, shucking the fabric of her suit from her torso before his hands held her firmly against him as he stood. Like she weighed nothing at all, he moved to the side of the desk, depositing her body across the now bare slab of wood.

He peeled the fabric from her legs slowly, taking the time to unlace her boots and toss them to the side as she panted on his desk. He looked like a vengeful god above her, stripping her of her clothes, his legs spread wide, thick cock pulling hard at the fabric of his suit. His exposed chest glistened with the sweat of desire, the same desire that darkened his eyes and made his hands move rough and fast against her skin.

When he’d laid her bare before him, she’d expected him to push down his own suit, letting her finally see the masterpiece he held between his legs. Instead, he placed a hand on the inside of each of her thighs, sliding his rough palms down and spreading them wide as he dropped to his knees before her. His eyes caught her gaze and held it, keeping her focused on him completely as he dipped his head down low between her legs. As he pressed the flat of his tongue hard against her opening, her mouth fell open, head rolling back in pleasure as he licked a long, slow stripe up the length of her. His lips circled her clit, tongue lapping against it as he sucked at a lengthy, deliberate pace, making her cry out his name in desperate need. At that, he moved his mouth away for just a moment, nuzzling his rough beard against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

“Delicious.”

Then he showed her just how delicious he thought she was, as he ate her pussy like a man starved. She couldn’t even begin to understand how he could use his mouth, his tongue the way he was, drowning her in pleasure that had her gasping his name, hips bucking hard against his face. The iron grip of his hands on her thighs, bruising her, holding her against his face, made the pleasure that much sweeter, until she came against his tongue, screaming his name. Even as she writhed beneath him, he traced her folds with his tongue, lapping against her clit until a second orgasm shook her body. 

This time, as she came down from the tremendous high he’d brought her to, she pushed him away with her feet, sitting up to snatch his suit below his hips. As she took in the glory of his cock, she licked her lips in appreciation, reaching to curve her fingers around the girth of his shaft. She traced over it slowly, her fingertips finding every sensitive vein and ridge, until he was shuddering in ecstasy.

“Maxson . . . Elder . . . Maxson . . . ,” she breathed quietly, “you have the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She wrapped her hand around him, fingertips not quite touching as she slowly pumped his length. His hips were pushed forward, head tipped back as he relished her touch, basking in her admiration. She used her free hand to cup the back of his head, drawing it towards hers and making him look her in the eye.

“I’m serious. This . . ,” she squeezed him gently, forcing a stuttered moan from deep in his chest, “is a fucking work of art. It . . . belongs . . . in . . . a museum.” 

She punctuated her words with tight strokes that had him panting against her face. He felt the coil of heat inside of him tightening, wound too close already by her words. He hadn’t expected the way she praised his cock to affect him so much, but every sweet word had spun him tighter, until, now, he was ready to spill any second.

As if guessing his thoughts, she pulled her hand away, trailing soft kisses along the shell of his ear as she drew him close. There was a strange comfort to the way her breasts pressed against his chest as her hands caressed his body. Arousing, yes, but also soothing, letting him back down from the edge without breaking the intimacy.

When he felt like he could do so without instantly spilling over, he reached between their bodies, taking his cock in his hand, even as he left his forehead pressed against hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he lined himself against her opening, and, slowly, he began to nudge himself inside of her. 

She felt like warm velvet, soft and tight around him. At a glance, he could see she was stretched to her limit, moaning at the sweet sting of his girth, and the sight sent heat surging through his veins. Every little bit of him that slid inside of her added to that feeling, a delectable fullness she’d never known before. When he was finally sheathed inside of her, she though she might split open, and it was the most intense, incredible thing she’d ever experienced.

“Goddammit, Fox, I barely fit inside you,” he breathed. “I wish you could see how fucking tight you are around me, how stretched you are.”

“Fuck . . . fuck, Maxson, I know . . . you fill me up . . . so good, it feels so . . . fucking . . . good. Like I could split in half. I wish I could see it, too.”

She panted beneath him, and he could see how hard she was trying not to move, to start fucking him hard and fast. If she did, there was no way she’d avoid hurting herself. He leaned over her, stilling her body with the weight of his own, and looking deeply into her eyes. He reached down to take her hands in his, lacing their fingers together as he put them beside her head. Ghosting a kiss against her cheek, he whispered in her ear.

“Trust me, Fox. I won’t hurt you, not this way.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes locked on his, and, slowly, he began rocking his hips. Just barely at first, watching her face for signs of pain. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she bit her lip, and he stopped, but she shook her head.

“No, I’m okay. It was just a second. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face against his chest and murmuring softly. He began to move again, this time gently pulling himself out the tiniest bit before thrusting back in. It was torturous, this slow method, but necessary if he was going to avoid hurting her. Soon, every thrust in was met by a soft moan, her hips rising to meet his. He took a chance, pulling out a good bit farther than he had been, and was rewarded by a gasp and disappointed whine as she lost the feeling of fullness, then a heady moan as he pushed back in.

Soon he was pumping his hips against hers at a furious pace, her nails dragging bright red stripes down his back. Sweat dripped down his chest, just as it beaded on her forehead, the desperate heat between them almost overwhelming. He was grunting in time with her moans, straining with the effort of keeping himself under control, when what he really wanted was to let go, and fill her so full of cum it would leak out while he kept fucking her. The thought of her beautiful pussy, pink and slick, with the white of his cum dripping out wound the coil within him to the point of breaking. His hips moved faster, rhythm faltering, and he felt her nails digging into his arms.

She started shaking her head furiously. “Don’t do it, don’t do it, Maxson. Don’t you dare fucking cum, Maxson! Please . . . please!”

His hands balled into fists beside her head. “Can’t . . . keep up . . . forever.” He closed his eyes, trying to push that hot, tight feeling down again, but it was no use. “You . . . feel . . . too damn good. I . . . .”

He thrust hard into her, spilling with a loud growl that was equal parts pleasure and frustration. He’d wanted to hold off, to make her cum again before he did, but she’d felt so good, looked and sounded so tempting . . . .


	4. Valuable Asset

Arthur Maxson sat up in his bed with a start, his boxers clinging thickly to his crotch. He’d spent in his sleep, something he hadn’t done in years, and all because of that damn woman. She’d twisted her way in his head, like some kind of witchcraft, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, how many other faces he tried to conjure in his fantasies, or how often he jerked off- and it was getting almost alarming how often that was happening. He couldn’t even think about her without getting hard, and whenever they fought, her insults and belittling turned him on so much he’d taken to heading to his quarters to “cool off” after every briefing. And he’d taken to goading her half the time, just to get her going, to make his blood pump hot through his veins. Even Danse was beginning to question him, wondering why he refused to admit just how valuable Fox was to the Brotherhood.

And she was. That was the worst part of it. With her on board, the Brotherhood was able to get things done he’d never have imagined. Not only had she single-handedly found the missing patrol and eradicated the mutants at a Fort Strong, but she’d ferreted out the source of the missing supplies, taken out the ferals hidden beneath the airport ruins, and convinced the offending officer to turn himself in for discipline. Her skill with weapons was unheard of, even in the Brotherhood, she moved like a shadow, and she seemed capable of talking anybody into- or out of- anything. She’d even convince Teagan to start buying supplies from settlements.

If she’d been unskilled, or even average, it would have been easy to hate her, to find reasons to keep her stationed well away from him, and hopefully off of his mind. But her absolute prowess meant he had no choice but to keep seeing her. Every time he turned around, there she was, and he had to compliment and commend her, all while trying desperately not to imagine her bent naked over his desk, ass raised in invitation. And then she’d snap at him, or make some insulting comment, and he’d feel his blood pulsing through his body, heading straight between his legs. And the control she had over him, all without even realizing it, just made him hate her more.

She was just so damn . . . perfect. Beautiful, skilled, pre-war genetics, and an acerbic tongue that lashed him like she was being paid for it. In another world, she’d be exactly the partner he’d want, someone who kept him on his toes and never let him get too egotistical. But for the Brotherhood, for the Elder of the Brotherhood, the thought was repugnant. He was the head of the goddamn Brotherhood of Steel, the inheritor of its leadership, and he was to be obeyed at all costs. To have a partner who did less than that was to appear weak, and weakness was failure.

Still, the thought of having her beside him was . . . enticing. For the Brotherhood to have not one, but two strong leaders, it would make them capable of taking on the entire world. The enemy would tremble in fear, the Maxson bloodline would continue. And, should the worst happen, should he be killed on a mission, or assassinated, the Brotherhood would be left in strong, capable hands. Not the hands of a child, barely strong enough to hold a weapon, shaking as he faced his first deathclaw.

But that was the past. What was done was done, and couldn’t be undone, no matter how he might wish to. What was left was the future, and he would rest assured that the a Brotherhood would never fall.

He went about his morning ablutions as usual, all while she was on his mind. It seemed inevitable that he’d have to take some kind of action to end this stand off between them, but nothing seemed quite satisfactory. If he gave in, admitted how valuable she was and gave her the honors she really deserved, he’d appear weak at this point. He’d already dug in hard, treating her no better than other soldiers, making her prove herself to him again and again. To suddenly about face on that would raise questions and cause talk. Besides, she’d be insufferably smug, and wouldn’t hesitate to hold it over his head. Berating him in private might turn him on, but in front of other soldiers, well, it would make him a laughingstock. Hardly the legacy he wanted.

On the other hand, if he kept this up, someone would start to wonder exactly why he was being so hard on her. She might be a capable soldier, but she was also a small, delicate woman, and he didn’t doubt she’d use that to her advantage, if it came to it. The last thing he needed was for her to complain, tearfully, to Kells or one of the other officers, accusing him of bullying her. No matter how much good he’d done for the Brotherhood, no matter what blood ran through his veins, he had a reputation for fairness. To lose that would mean losing the trust of at least half of his men.

Treating her as any other ordinary soldier wasn’t an option. Besides her extraordinary skills, she made him . . . feel things. It was disconcerting, and trying to pretend it wasn’t there was only making it worse. If he approached her, he was certain she’d not only laugh in his face, but probably let everyone else know what he’d done. That would humiliate him, not only as the Elder, but as a man. 

He sighed as he dressed, adjusting the collar of his suit. There were plenty of young, healthy women in the Commonwealth, even in the Brotherhood alone, and many of them would be more than happy to have a place in his bed. Why was it only this woman that he wanted? She could humiliate him completely, bring him to his knees. Why was that so thrilling to him?

When he’d dressed completely, he examined himself carefully in the small mirror he used for shaving, and frowned. His beard was shaggy, rough around the edges and badly in need of a trim. The scar that ran across his cheek, the one he usually paid no mind, suddenly seemed to glare at him, raw and ugly. His nose was too big, his eyes too small. There were more wrinkles there than there had been, far too many for a twenty year old.

For fucks sake, he’d never cared about any of this before! But that damn woman walks aboard, and suddenly he’s worried about his looks? He was the goddamn leader of the Brotherhood of Steel, the most powerful man on the East Coast! He had a soul forged of eternal steel, people bowed to him, not the other way around, dammit!

He stalked out of his quarters, directly the nearest recruit.

“Where is Paladin Danse?”

“I believe he’s down at the airport, sir, assisting Knight Greenwood. Proctor Ingram sent for them last night,” the recruit stumbled, caught off guard.

“Send for him. I want to see him in my office immediately. Just the Paladin, is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Maxson strode to his office, busying himself with paperwork while he waited for Danse. When the Paladin arrived, he had him sit on the opposite side of his desk, and, for a moment, he recalled the incredibly vivid dream he’d had, and what had happened on top of that desk. Then he shook the thought from his head, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him.

“Tell me everything you know about Knight Greenwood.”

Danse furrowed his brows. “I beg your pardon, Elder?”

Maxson sighed heavily. “Knight Fox Greenwood, Paladin. I’d like to hear everything you know about her. I don’t care how small or insignificant you believe the detail to be, I want to know.”

“Permission to speak freely, Elder?”

“Granted.”

Danse relaxed, leaning towards Maxson. “As your friend, Arthur, what is this about?”

Maxson stood, walking away from Danse to stare at a frame on the wall, containing the commendation he’d gotten when he was younger for killing a particularly dangerous Super Mutant. He took a deep, cleansing breath. Under normal circumstances, he’d say nothing, but Danse had been a good friend to him for many years, and he knew he’d never betray his confidence.

“I find myself . . . enchanted. She stays in my thoughts, she appears in my dreams. I cannot seem to rid myself of her image, or stop hearing her voice. Yet when I am faced with her, I find myself saying the cruelest things, goading her just to watch her fury.” 

He turned to face Danse, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that betrayed his stern demeanor and cold words.

“You know, if you’re interested in her, you could just ask her out.”

Maxson gritted his teeth together, speaking tightly. “I am aware, Paladin. Did you not hear what I said?”

“Yes sir. My apologies.” Danse sighed. “So . . . you need a way to approach her. Without having your head bit off.”

“Affirmative.” Maxson sat back down at his desk, looking at the man before him. “I am out of my depths here, Danse. If this were merely a physical need, I assure you, it would have been out of my system by now. But the more I . . . well,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably as Danse raised an eyebrow, “let’s just say I cannot seem to find the satisfaction that I crave.”

Danse tried to ignore the fact that the Elder had all but stated outright that he’d been masturbating to thoughts of Knight Greenwood. 

“I’m not unaware that I’ve been less than welcoming to her. I would like to correct that, but without the appearance of weakness.”

“Is weakness really such a bad thing, Arthur?”

Maxson felt a flush rising in his cheeks. “For a man in my position, yes. Do you really think the others would be willing to follow a man who could be brought to his knees by a pretty face? I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Point taken. Alright, Arthur. Here’s everything I know.”

By the time he’d dismissed the Paladin, Maxson’s mind was reeling with all of the information he’d been given. He’d known she was pre-war, of course. That had been one of the first things Cade had told him, after her examination. But she had been married. And to a soldier, as well. It explained her ease with their regulations, as well as her knowledge of weapons and armor. But . . . married? And she’d seen her husband killed, her son- and that was another thing, that she had a child- kidnapped right in front of her. She’d earned her coldness. Not unlike he had.

As Elder Maxson, head of the Brotherhood of Steel, East Coast Division, sat at his desk and considered everything he’d been told, he began to formulate a plan.


	5. Gone Hunting

Maxson entered the room to the sound of cheers. Liquor was flowing freely, and every single brotherhood officer within eyeshot wore a grin a mile wide. As he pushed his way through the crowd, he kept hearing snippets of conversation, astonishment coupled with admiration. Then he heard a loud voice from somewhere on the edge of the crowd.

“To Knight Greenwood!”

He stopped the recruit closest to him. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s Knight Greenwood, sir. She’s killed a courser!”

Maxson stopped dead. “Where is she now?” 

He pointed in a direction, and Maxson headed off. 

When he found her, she was surrounded by other soldiers, a cup in her hand, and her eyes full of laughter. Just beside her, three other Brotherhood officers stood, each with a bottle, practically fighting over who got to pour her next drink. 

“Knight Greenwood.”

A silence fell, loud enough to deafen, as he strode towards her. Immediately, she put the cup down and stood, frowning, while anyone near her suddenly had other things to do. Very far away. As he stood in front of her, glaring down, she crossed her arms defiantly. 

“I’d like to see you in my office. Now.”

She moped behind him, all the joy having left the crowd as soon as he’d spoken. Every eye followed them as he lead her out, and he couldn’t help but notice a few heads shaking in pity. Apparently, he’d been right, and others were noticing how hard he’d been on her.

When they reached his office, he gestured at the empty chair.

“Sit down, Greenwood,” he snapped, then stopped himself, adding in a softer tone, “Please.”

She eyed him suspiciously, sitting down as he took the chair across the desk. He folded his hands in front of him.

“Is there anything you wish to tell me, Knight?”

When she said nothing, he sighed.

“It occurs to me that I may have been a bit . . . harsh on you.”

“That’s a damn understatement,” she mumbled, and he ignored it, despite how badly he wanted to start a fight.

“I apologize for that.”

She jerked her head up, her eyes wide. It was much herder to speak with her looking at him, but he swallowed hard and pushed forward.

“I vastly underestimated you- a mistake I don’t intend to repeat.” Awkwardly, he paused, then continued. “I hear that you killed a courser.”

“Yes sir.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly as her eyes seemed to bore straight through him.

“Not one of my soldiers has yet managed to do that. Congratulations.”

“Sir, May I ask what this is about, exactly?”

She tilted her head, an innocent curiosity coupled with the deep suspicion she held him in mixed on her face. It hurt that she didn’t trust him, but he could hardly blame her.

“As I said, I realized I was being far too hard on you, and I wished to apologize. I let my personal feelings and biases get the better of me. I judged you as being too attractive to be a useful soldier, and-“

She shook her head. “Wait . . . too attractive? What the hell does that even mean, Maxson?”

Oh shit. This was not how he’d meant this to go. Suddenly, all the words in his head scrambled and turned to mush. And there she was, glaring at him, and they were at his desk, the same one in the dream, and . . . .

“Oh fuck.”

She took one look at the panicked look on his face and burst out laughing. It was that same warm, melodic sound he’d heard in the dream, and a part of him suddenly wondered if he was dreaming again. This would be more of a nightmare, though. All that was missing was him standing naked in front of the crew.

“I’m sorry, Maxson, I just- wait, no. I’m not sorry at all. You were horrible to me.”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m aware. Hence the apology.”

As she raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. I accept your apology. And I’ll tell you that I didn’t just kill a courser. I removed the transmission chip from it’s head, took it to a friend of mine to get decoded, and have in my hands the plans for a Molecular Relay- which is how we’ll get into the Institute.”

“You’ve managed to secure a way into the Institute?”

There was no way for him to hide the pure astonishment he felt, which was probably why she was looking at him so smugly, with her mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Yes sir. I’ve already discussed building it with a Proctor Ingram, and she has a team gathering the material we’ll need. I just need to grab a few things, and we’ll be in business.”

He felt something twist inside of him at that cocky grin, and suddenly his head was swimming with visions of her standing over him with that same look, while he kneeled before her naked and bound. Her tongue lashing him, teasing and humiliating him, slapping him, smacking his ass until he cried out. His throat went dry, and he had to resist the urge to make a nasty comment, just to fuel his fantasy with more of her ire.

He dismissed her, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hand. That’s what this was about? Domination? He wanted to be humiliated, slapped around and insulted? 

He staggered to his room, locking the door behind him as he stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and turned out the lights before climbing into bed. Then, he closed his eyes.

He pictured Fox, much the same way she’d been earlier, dressed in her uniform, clinging a little tighter to her figure. She was standing with her hands on her hips and a frown of displeasure pulling the sides of her mouth down. And he stood before her, his head hung low in shame. She reached up to grab his chin, pulling his face roughly towards hers as she insulted him, spewing hard words like acid in his face. 

Already, his heart was pounding in his chest.

Then, he imagined her letting go of his chin to slap him, so hard it left a red mark and made his head spin. She’d put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him to his knees before her. Then, she pulled out a knife, toying with it in front of his face.

He was hard in his boxers, but kept his hands placed on his stomach while he drifted deeper into his fantasy.

She slashed a line across his chest, putting a tear in his suit, then reached to rip it open wider. Again, she slapped him. He moved to look up, to see the fury in her eyes, and she began circling his body, stopping occasionally to tear another hole in his suit. When the top was in ribbons, she ordered him to stand, placing the tip of the knife between his legs. Slowly, she cut a line down each inseam, kneeling between his legs, and ordered him to put his hands on his head. As she slipped the knife beneath the fabric between his legs, his breath caught in his chest and he felt himself stiffen further, both in his fantasy and reality. Then she tore it open, and his rock hard cock sprang free. Ordering him to watch her, she leaned forward, placing her tongue at the base of his shaft and licking a long, slow stripe up the underside, then around the rim of his tip. Afterwards she stood, and slapped him again.

He groaned aloud, and in his bed he took his cock in his hand.

She removed the remnants of his clothing, then forced him to his knees again, shoving his face towards the ground and ordering him not to look up. A chair was placed in front of him, and he heard the soft rustling of fabric. The next thing he knew, her bare thighs were on each side of his head, her heels resting on his back. Soon, he heard a soft, rhythmic sound, then her moaning quietly above him. She was inches away from him, her fingers playing against her soft, sweet pussy. If he lifted his head, he could see her, he could watch the faces she made, see how her body moved. But he wasn’t allowed to look, just hear her satisfying herself, her moans, feel the way her heels dug into his back as she arched in passion.

Fuck, that was really, really hot.

His hand moved faster between his legs as he let the feelings of frustration and humiliation wash over him. God, he was hard, dripping precum and absolutely throbbing with desire. Then he pictured her grabbing his face, tilting it up and pushing her soaking pussy against it, forcing him to make her cum, and his orgasm ripped through his body, screaming, his hot cum spurting onto his hand. When his stiff body finally relaxed, he felt utterly shattered, as if he’d spent a decade’s worth of cum in that one short moment. 

Well, at least he knew now what it was about Greenwood that he liked so much, even if it didn’t help him to win her over. And now, as much as he hated to admit it, he did want to win her over. The fantasy was nice, but he craved her presence, the reality of her skin on his. And, he realized as he came down from the high of his orgasm, he wanted the comfort of having her beside him when it was over.

He cleaned himself, then rolled to his stomach, tucking his pillow beneath his chin. After what he’d realized, he found he couldn’t quite hate her the same way he had before. He’d disliked her, in part, because he’d felt that humiliating someone in the position he was in, disobeying them, or even just bristling against him was, well, wrong. He was supposed to be THE figure of authority. But he’d been that for a long time, and he’d always felt that somewhere, somehow, something was lacking. He’d thought what he needed was more control, more order, and he’d lived his life thus far trying to attain that.

Then Fox Greenwood had waltzed onto his ship, the antithesis of everything he’d thought he wanted. Mouthy, forward, ambitious to the point of disobedience- and he wanted her more than anything. What an ignorant fool he was. A human can only bear the weight of so much responsibility, and can only exert so much control, before they break with the strain. What he needed, what he truly craved wasn’t MORE control, but LESS. To have just one area of his life where he could give up, ease his rigid nature, and trust someone else.

That was it, wasn’t it? Trust. Not trust in his soldiers to watch his back, or carry out his orders. But to trust that someone would care for him. That he could be vulnerable, weak, and still be worth something. Greenwood was the only person he’d faced since his ascent to the head of the Brotherhood who’d ever pushed back against his rough, cold demeanor, and in that, he’d found comfort. It all made sense.

Meanwhile, Fox slipped along cold, dark tunnels beneath the earth. It hadn’t been the easiest thing to sneak off of the Prydwen, but it had been necessary. She was already days late, and didn’t want them to start worrying. One small misstep, and it could destroy everything.

As she approached the stone staircase, she stood, straightening her clothing and dusting herself off. She stepped through the doorway, and was greeted by a familiar face.

“Hey, Des was looking for you. Wants to know what took so long for you to get back.”

“Yeah, sorry. I hit something of an unexpected snag. But, boy, have I got news for you guys.”


	6. An Interesting Proposal

He watched her for weeks, as the items for the molecular relay were gathered, sorted, and the plans refined. Always, she buzzed from one thing to another, never quite lighting anywhere, keeping herself distracted. Maxson knew the trick well, he’d done it often. If you focus on what’s in front of you, you can’t worry about what’s ahead. 

The more he watched her, the more he came to admire her. She was so unlike him, but similar all the same. It was as if someone had stolen half of his soul, refined and polished it, and poured into her. Where he was gruff, she was kind. Where he was clumsy, she was graceful. And more beautiful to him each day. He found himself leaving the Prydwen more and more often, venturing to the airport to watch her as she worked, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. For now, he could make the excuse that he was watching this new technology come together, keeping it under his eye for protection, but it couldn’t last forever. Besides, Danse, at least, had noticed that his eyes weren’t exactly focused on the machinery.

“She won’t know you’re interested if you don’t tell her, you know.” Danse leaned on the railing beside Maxson, smirking. “And all this watching and pining isn’t doing you any good, either.”

“I have a plan.”

“Alright. So tell me.”

Maxson cleared his throat. “Perhaps later.”

“Come on . . . out with it.”

“Fine. I am, as you know, the last survivor of the Maxson bloodline. Sooner or later, I am expected to . . ,” he swallowed hard, “to marry, to produce an heir. With her pre-war genetics, she would be an ideal choice.”

“Arthur, that is a terrible idea.”

“Obviously I do not intend to simply propose to her. But I thought, perhaps, that I would broach the subject with her, to gauge her interest.”

Danse raised an eyebrow. “My opinion hasn’t changed.”

“Fine then, Danse!” Maxson spit at him. “What do you suggest?”

“Leaving the idea of marriage and children off the table for a while, to start with.”

“Then what am I to do?” Maxson shouted, drawing the attention of a few recruits nearby. Lowering his voice, he continued, “you and I both know she wants nothing to do with me! She thinks I’m, and I quote ‘a stupid, selfish, stuck up bastard’. Hardly a man she’d be interested in.”

Danse chuckled, despite his efforts to contain it, and drew a death glare from Maxson.

“She said that?”

“Yesterday, during a briefing. I had perhaps put a bit too much emphasis on the work she could do for the Brotherhood if she made it into the Institute. After she’d told me about the need to find her son.”

“Jesus, Arthur,” Danse sighed.

“I’ve told you, I’m not cut out for this. I can give orders and have them followed. That’s what I’m used to.”

“You can’t order her to like you.”

“I am aware, Danse,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “But neither can I simply sit back and hope she will one day find me tolerable.”

Danse shrugged,then walked away, leaving Maxson alone to watch Fox as she worked. Occasionally she’d glance in his direction, frown, and then move to another area. He’d feel a flush in his cheeks, knowing he was caught, but still find himself unable to stop watching her. As the night grew darker, work slowed, as most of the crew left to return to the Prydwen. But Fox stayed, and so did Maxson.

Eventually, exhaustion won out for both of them, and they boarded the final vertibird back together, a handful of recruits and soldiers along. Fox deliberately placed herself at the opposite end, but facing him, and glared at him the entire ride. He disembarked first, and she last, so he lost track of her in the process, but that didn’t seem to matter, since he heard a firm, singular knock on the door of his quarters a short time after entering. He opened the door to see Fox. She pushed her way in without an invitation, turning to him as he closed the door behind her.

“Just what the hell is the meaning of it? You spending the damn days watching me, eyes glued to me as I work, all that? You don’t trust me with your stupid fucking technology? Afraid I’ll sabotage it, or steal it? Because, in case you’ve forgotten, I need the damn thing to work, too! This is about more than your stupid fucking Brotherhood mission, and your damn petty greed! I have to find my son! MY SON, you son of a bitch! And nothing, NOTHING is gonna stop me. Not you, not the Institute, not the whole goddamn Brotherhood of Steel! So if that’s what your game is, you can just FUCK OFF!!!”

She was yelling loud enough he was certain half the Prydwen could hear her, red-faced and on the verge of tears. Her chin was trembling with anger, her small hands balled into fists at her sides, and her glare could have melted the hardest freeze. He could practically feel the daggers in her eyes, taste the venom on her lips.

And he was, to his horror, unbelievably aroused.

All thoughts had left him, all words failed. He was simply stuck in front of her, pulse pounding, his eyes locked on hers, with what he was certain was an incredibly obvious bulge between his legs.

After a few seconds of silence, her hard stare turned to a look of genuine confusion. Her brow furrowed, and, as he watched helplessly, her eyes roamed down the length of his body, finally resting level with his hips. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as he felt a hot, curious rush of embarrassment and desire mingling into one.

“Maxson?” Her eyes flicked up to his face, then down again. “What the hell is that?”

His eyes followed hers downward, and, just as he’d feared, he was rock hard, straining against the material of his flight suit. When his gaze moved back up to her face, she was watching him, eyes darting from his cock to his face. She didn’t seem angry anymore, or even embarrassed or upset. She looked almost . . . curious.

“Fuck.”

She snorted in laughter at his outburst, then covered her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Maxson, I shouldn’t laugh. It was just funny, that you chose that word . . . when you’re . . . you’ve got . . . .”

She doubled over in laughter, trying to compose herself, failing, and trying again, while he just stood there. At first, he moved to cover himself with his hands, but that seemed ridiculous, since she’d already seen it, anyway. And it was NOT going away, not with her laughing at him like she was, making him feel humiliated and hot.

“I’m glad it’s so amusing to you,” he frowned, trying his best to maintain some sense of dignity.

“Well . . . stuck up Maxson, super-serious head of the Brotherhood of Steel, getting an erection while some woman yells at him? It’s . . . .” Her eyes went wide. “Wait. WAIT. Have you . . . um . . . do you have a thing for that?”

Maxson groaned in resignation, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“No. I mean, I didn’t. At least not that I knew of, not until recently.”

She sat on the bed beside him, resting her shoulder against his.

“It’s not that strange. If you’re worried about that.”

“And why would I be worried about that?” Maxson snapped.

“Hey, take it easy. It’s gonna be pretty hard to pull that ‘intimidating Elder’ bullshit with me now, you know. I was just saying. Back before- the bombs and everything- there were even people who did that kind of thing professionally. Yelled at and humiliated people so they could get off. I did it for a little while, before I met Nate.”

“You humiliated people? For . . . personal gratification?” Maxson’s eyes grew wide.

“Yeah.” She said quietly, looking down at her hands. For moment, Maxson felt a pang of sympathy, she seemed genuinely ashamed of it. “There was no sex involved- I didn’t do that. But, yeah, I would do just about anything else. Tie people up, whip them, insult them. I . . . ,” she paused, swallowing hard. “I needed money, and it paid well. I actually grew to enjoy it. But then Nate found out. We’d just started getting really serious- he didn’t like it. Said I was ‘way too good to be somebody’s whore’, and basically called and quit for me.

Unfortunately , her description sent his mind wandering, bringing to mind images of her tying him up, her soft hands contrasting with the rough rope against his bare skin, the tension in his muscles, her teasing touch, and it made him harden even more.

“Would . . . ,” Maxson swallowed, terrified of the words about to come out of his mouth. “Would you ever consider . . . doing that sort of thing again?”

“What?” She looked at him. “Get paid to humiliate people?”

Her mind worked in slow motion as she turned to face him, and the implications of his words, after what she’d just confessed, hit him. God, he wished he could think properly around her, with his brain instead of what was between his legs. She jumped up, rounding to face him.

“Wait- are you propositioning me? You want to pay me to humiliate you, to fuck you or something? Seriously? Are you out of your damn mind?!?!? I left that shit behind me, and I was never . . . god, you’re so- such a-“ she stammered, getting angrier by the minute.

“No! That’s not . . . goddammit, I wasn’t suggesting that I pay you, or anything like that!”

“Then what the fuck WERE you trying to say, huh?”

“Goddammit, I like you, Fox! More than I should! It’s not just some random person that I think about these things with, it’s YOU, always you, and I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do about it!”

Fox stood stunned, watching as Maxson’s face reddened. Clearly, he hadn’t meant that to come out, or at least, not like that. But, somehow, that made her feel better. The Elder was human, after all, not some perfect, bossy asshole who thought he could bully his way into whatever he wanted, or buy it, if he couldn’t do that. Not some spoiled brat, but a real, genuine person, with needs and desires. And he desired her. It was definitely flattering. And Maxson was handsome, she couldn’t deny that. The idea of being with him sent waves of heat through her body. But she had Sean to find, and, as far as she was concerned, she hadn’t been widowed even a year yet. 

Still, she found herself lonely too often, craving the touch of another person. She’d been with no one since waking up in the vault, and it had been a long time even before that. But, Maxson? It seemed like all kinds of bad ideas wrapped up in one. Even if it was just a fuck, it was fucking her superior officer. THE superior officer. Not that her loyalties lay with the Brotherhood, but it could still cause all sorts of problems. And . . . he seemed to actually feel something for her. She might be willing to do anything to find her son, but toying with a man’s feelings seemed a little far.

But he sat there in front of her, looking at her with his eyes full of desire, painfully vulnerable. And that was it, too. For the first time, she saw the Elder as a man, a normal, fragile human. Underneath that hard exterior, he was, well, real. And he wanted her.


	7. The Culmination of Regret

Before she’d realized what she was doing, her mouth was pressed against his and she was straddling his lap. Though he grunted in surprise, he accepted her kisses eagerly, grabbing hold of her waist to pull her against him. It was ecstasy, kissing her, better than he’d ever imagined. The velvet of her tongue against his, the taste of her moans, all of it drove him further, until he was rolling her to her back on his bed, his body nestled between her legs. His mouth traced the line of her slender neck, across the delicacy of her collarbones. She was such a bundle of contradictions, this fragile exterior hiding the fire and strength within her.

“Fox . . ,” he moaned against her throat, “Fox, you’re an amazing woman. So beautiful, so strong. God, Fox, I could worship you.”

She pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss as she fumbled with the buckles and zippers that held his suit closed, doing everything she could to start undressing him, and failing. Meanwhile, he had her suit pulled open to the waist, and had worked his way down to bury his face in her breasts.

“Can’t get your damn suit undone . . ,” she gasped, gripping the back of his head as he took her breast into his mouth. “Fucking Brotherhood . . . fucking complicated . . .suits.”

She gasped as his teeth grazed over her nipple, the sharp pain making the pleasure all the sweeter, then whined as he moved to stand beside the bed. With practiced ease, he opened his suit, pulling it off of his shoulders. He was about to shed it completely when Fox pulled him towards her, drawing him down to the bed again. As she reached to pull off his undershirt, her legs wrapped around his waist, and suddenly he couldn’t even try to stop himself. He pushed the rigid line of his cock against her, rubbing, grinding, doing everything he could to relieve the desperate ache she’d raised in him, and the more he moved against her, the louder she groaned. Before long, her arms were wrapped around him, her teeth biting into his shoulder.

“Maxson . . . .” His name came out as a groan. “Maxson . . . more. More. I . . . I need you . . . need . . . .”

He understood, because he needed exactly the same thing.

He ripped the suit from her body, tossing it and her underwear to the side as she did the same with her bra. As he moved to undress himself, he made the mistake of glancing up at her, and all at once he found himself transfixed by the beauty of her naked body, unable to move. While he was frozen, she writhed on the bed, desperate to feel the weight of his body on hers, his cock filling her up. Her hand slid across her stomach and down between her legs, dipping a finger inside before she started circling her clit. If he hadn’t wanted her so damn bad, he’d have paid to keep watching.

“Maxson . . . ,” she moaned his name as she picked up speed between her legs, her orgasm already barreling towards her. “Please.”

Spurred into motion, Maxson wasted no time in shedding the rest of his clothing, then pressing his mouth in to replace her hand. As soon as his lips found her clit, sucking it, her orgasm hit, ravaging her body like a hurricane. Her cries rose in pitch and volume, until she was screaming his name, her hips bucking wildly against his face. His grip was iron on her thighs as he steadied her throughout, helping her ride out the last waves, building them into third and fourth crests, until, finally, she collapsed against the bed.

He looked up at her through lust clouded eyes, kissing his way over her mound, her hips, and stomach. When his body was lined with hers again, she took his face in her hands and pulled him down for a kiss. She could taste her own sweetness, smell her arousal on him, like laying claim, and found the thought excited her.

“Fox . . ,” he whispered against her ear, “is it alright. . . ?”

In answer, she reached between them, taking him in hand and guiding him to her opening. He was definitely bigger than she was used to, but nothing she couldn’t handle, and he took his time as he pushed inside of her, savoring the way she felt around him. So hot, so tight . . . he felt as if the slightest movement could tip him over the edge. Then she started squeezing, her wet heat pulsing around his cock and making him groan in impossible pleasure. Her hips bucked up against him, begging, as her nails bit into the skin of his shoulders, and instinct took over. 

He moved hard and fast, slamming his hips against her while she moaned and purred beneath him. Her sharp cries, the way her breasts bounced with every impact, her teeth digging into her full, pink lips- all of it drew him towards a dizzying ecstasy he’d never believed possible. He’d thought it was her demeanor, her cutting words and disdain that drew him to her, but it turned out, he just wanted HER. Her body, her mouth, her embrace. God, she was perfection. 

It ended too soon, with him pulling out to spill on his discarded shirt while she watched. While he was preoccupied with cleaning himself, she took in the shape of him, his broad, thick shoulders, the rigid muscles of his abdomen. Physical perfection, covered with the scars of battle. At twenty, he shouldn’t look so weathered, but life was hard here, in this new world. She supposed it aged people faster.

As he returned to bed, she sat up, moving to dress, until she felt the warmth of his hand on her hip. When she turned to look at him, she was surprised at the open vulnerability she saw in his eyes, the raw longing.

“Stay. Please?” He swallowed. “Just . . . perhaps just a bit?”

She nodded slowly, laying on her side in front of him and letting him wrap his arm around her waist. He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck softly before kissing her there. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted. It had been so long since someone had held her, brushed her skin with gentle affection, or kissed her this way. It was wrong to be here, for so many reasons, but the comfort of his body was too wonderful to give up.

Some time later, when his breathing had slowed to the peaceful rhythm of sleep, Fox carefully removed herself from his arms. She dressed minimally, as quietly as she could, then slipped out of his room. Luckily it was late enough that there were few people around, and no one saw her leave, or slip down to her bunk. As she laid in bed, all she could think about was what had just happened, how wrong, how terribly wrong it was- but how she’d wanted all the same. And she’d enjoyed it, even laying beside him afterward. She had liked the feeling of being desired . . . and not just physically. Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep. It was full of strange dreams that set her on edge, and nightmares of sleeping with Maxson, only to find he had her late husband’s face as she’d last seen it, dull and frozen. 

She woke more tired than she’d gone to sleep, meeting Danse in the galley for breakfast. 

“Rough night?”

She sighed. “Something like that. Too many nightmares.”

“I don’t believe nightmares would account for the mark on your neck, nor for the fact that you didn’t head to your bunk until nearly two in the morning.” Her eyes flew wide as she looked up at him. “Relax, Greenwood, I won’t tell. But you might want to zip your suit up all the way today. Just a suggestion.”

He raised his eyebrow at her as she cursed, drawing the zipper tightly around her neck. It made her feel like she was choking, but it was better than fielding questions all day. There was work to be done, supplies to gather for the molecular relay, and she wanted nothing holding her up. Now that she knew where her son was, she was filled with the driving need to get there, to see his face again, to hold him. She’d already missed ten years of his life, she didn’t want to miss any more.

She was on her way to catch a ride to the airport when a Maxson stepped through the doorway, nearly causing her to run into his chest. He looked down, frowning, ready to snap at whatever poor recruit had the misfortune of being in his way. When he saw it was Fox, his entire demeanor changed. Anger turned to confusion, then disbelief.

“Greenwood?”

Well, at least he hadn’t used her first name. That would have drawn more attention than she’d have liked for sure.

“Elder Maxson, sir!” She snapped to attention, drawing another look of confusion before he fell into character behind her.

“Watch your step, Greenwood,” he growled, hating himself for his harshness.

“Yes, sir.”

He watched as she walked away, disappearing onto the flight deck. A cold pit of doubt opened in his stomach, making him feel dizzy, nauseous. 

Last night had been the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. While he was in her arms, he’d felt genuinely happy, for what may have been the first time in his life. Beyond the absolutely incredible sex, he’d enjoyed her company- just her presence, beside him, with no ulterior motive. With her body laid against his, he finally understood what people meant by contentment, because that had been exactly what he’d felt. Peace. Everything about her just felt . . . perfect.

He couldn’t explain how lost he’d felt to wake up and find himself alone, nor how he ached inside, wishing she was there. Realistically, he was perfectly aware it wasn’t an option. Morning was too busy for her to slip out unnoticed, and it wouldn’t exactly look good for her to be seen leaving his quarters early in the morning. But still, he’d yearned for her, wanted her. 

He’d thought that perhaps, after bedding her, his craving for her might dissipate, or at least diminish. That he’d be able to think more clearly. Now, though, it was worse. He didn’t have to fantasize about what it would be like to be with her- he KNEW. And it had been perfect. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the face she made as he’d thrust into her. He’d swear he heard her sighs of pleasure in the rustling of paperwork or the scraping of the door as it opened, or catch her scent on the wind. He wanted to know everything about her, wanted to sit at her feet and let her tell him her life story. He wanted to bring her son to her, to give her the life she’d had before the war. He wanted to make her happy. 

Oh, god. He was in love. Totally, utterly, irrevocably in love, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, except try to get her to love him back.


	8. Transmission Intercepted

The relay was almost complete. In another few days, she’d be inside the Institute, in the belly of the beast. And no one would be able to help her. 

She was terrified, yes. There was no way to be sure it would even work. She might disappear, never to be seen again. She might have her body rearranged into an unflattering display of her insides. She might even explode. If it DID work, she still might never be seen again. It was unlikely she’d go unnoticed inside for long, and less likely she’d find a way out if she did.

But there was another part of her that thrummed with excitement. She would, hopefully, see her son again! A bit older, but still her son, her flesh and blood, who she’d cradle in her arms, who she’d braved hours of labor to bring into this world. Nothing could replace that.

She’d made excuses about needing to settle things with the Minutemen before she left, getting her a trip on her own to talk to the Railroad. They’d been overjoyed, of course, to find out she could get in, and had a job for her to do. That was why she stood in the catacombs right now, in the center of HQ, waiting for Desdemona to come fill her in.

The redhead approached like she always did, cigarette in hand, and lead her to an isolated area of the room. Before she spoke, she took a deep breath.

“I’m about to tell you about the Railroad’s most closely guarded secret. It’s time you knew about Patriot.”

As a Fox headed back to the Prydwen, her mind was reeling. The Railroad had an operative they didn’t even know inside the Institute, helping them free synths. Just . . . sending them out there, hoping they’d survive in the chaos of the Commonwealth. There was no way it was someone who’d actually been out there, or they’d be better prepared. But, since she’d be going inside, it was her job to find and meet this person- provided she lived long enough. 

She should have been more nervous about going in, she knew that. The molecular relay might fail, she might be found and killed, or she might, even worse, be replaced with a synth duplicate to take the Railroad or Brotherhood (or both) down from the inside. But the closer the time came, the less nervous she was. Either she would succeed, or she’d fail, she’d live, or she’d die. And dying didn’t scare her. Without Sean, she didn’t have much of a reason to live. He’d been the one great thing she’d gotten out of her pathetic excuse of a marriage. Of course, she always played the part of the doting wife, and then, the grieving widow. But deep down, when she’d seen his frozen, lifeless body? She’d felt a sense of relief, like a burden she’d been carrying for years was finally lifted.

Nate hadn’t been a great partner, even in the early years. Oh, he was charming, handsome and smooth, with a pocketful of compliments and a thousand ways to make her feel special. She was in law school? Wow, that was incredible, he’d always wanted a girlfriend who was super-smart. Until she’d graduated. Then, well, then there was no real reason to work, was there? He could support them both just fine, and anyone else who came along (wink, wink). Besides, she’d already showed how smart she was, why keep going? All his talk about protecting her, providing for her, it just shoved her ambitions in his back pocket, putting her in a corner where she was completely dependent on him. When they’d entered the vault, she was already exhausted from it, down to her bones. The thought of being trapped in close quarters with him and so many of their neighbors and friends, of having to wear that fake smile and pretend she was happy for the next god knew how long? It had put thoughts of death in her mind before the elevator had hit bottom.

As she climbed aboard the Prydwen once more, she did her best to shake the memories of the past from her head, stumbling towards her bed. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it far.

“Knight Greenwood?”

She turned, a grim smile on her lips.

“Yes, recruit?”

“My apologies, but Elder Maxson was looking for you. He asked that you come see him when you return.”

With a heavy sigh, she responded, “yes, recruit. Thank you.”

She turned, heading back the way she’d come, until she stood in front of the door to the Elder’s quarters. She raised her hand to knock, but found herself hesitant. The last time she’d been here . . . well, things had happened that she hadn’t really intended to happen. She’d let her loneliness get the better of her. What if that was the reason he wanted to see her? To do . . . that? Or to upbraid her for it, even if he’d started it? She’d known she’d have to face whatever consequences it brought on eventually, she’d just hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon.

He must have been practically waiting by the door, because only a second or two after her gentle knock, the door opened to her.

“Fo-“ he cleared his throat. “Knight Greenwood. Yes. Please, come in.”

He held the door politely, waiting for her to cross the threshold before closing it behind her. Once they were alone in his quarters, he pulled the chair from behind his terminal, sitting it in front of the bed and gesturing for her to sit down, then seating himself on the bed. She crossed the room nervously, wondering exactly what it was the Elder had in mind. When she was settled in front of him, he looked up at her from his folded hands.

“I’m told the Molecular Relay is finished.”

Fox’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t heard that, sir.”

He nodded. “Today. While you were gone.” He looked down at his hands again, twisting them together in his lap. “I assume that means that, within the next few days, you’ll be heading into the Institute.”

He returned his gaze to her face, his eyes meeting hers. There was a strange, surprising vulnerability there, the same kind she’d seen the night when, well, everything had happened. Since she couldn’t think of anything else to say, she said the obvious.

“Yes, sir.”

“I-“ he paused, swallowing hard and standing, moving to stare at a random item hung on the wall. To his great surprise, she followed him, moving to stand behind him, then place her hand on his arm.

“Maxson?”

She cursed herself inside. What was she doing? Why? Maxson meant nothing to her. He was a night of fun, a temporary cure to the aching loneliness she’d felt inside. So why did the sadness in his eyes send such a twinge of pain through her heart?

“I find myself . . . concerned. We don’t know what will happen when you stand on that platform or we flip that switch.” He turned to look at her, and, without meaning to, he cupped the side of her face. “I don’t want to see you harmed.”

Their eyes met, a heady tension stretching between them. Suddenly, Fox discovered that, in that moment, what she wanted to do more than anything was lean into his touch, put her arms around him, and let him pull her against his broad chest.

Damn her loneliness.

She opened her mouth, shaking her head. “Maxson, I-“

Abruptly, he dropped his hand, turning away. “I don’t expect it to mean anything to you. Nor do I expect you to change your plans.” He threw a final glance over his shoulder. “I simply wished to let you know. Dismissed.”

Once again she opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She nodded her goodbye, opened the door, and left.

Maxson sighed as the door closed behind her. Damn him. Damn his stubborn attitude, his need to have the upper hand and always be right. He’d come so close to talking to her, to telling her how he really felt, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it, to put his heart in her hands. Who knew if he’d have another chance? He was an ass, plain and simple. He deserved nothing.

But being undeserving didn’t stop him from wanting. Since the night that everything had happened, the way he’d thought about her had changed completely. He didn’t fantasize about her slaps or fucking her until they couldn’t breathe anymore. Now, he just wanted to hold her, to feel that soft red hair beneath his nose, her body warm against his. He imagined her soft kisses before he left on a mission, wishing him luck, begging him to return safe, and her being the reason he wanted to.

Now she was going away, possibly never to return, and he couldn’t even bring himself to tell her how much he cared, how important to him it was that she DID return. Because why? Why would he, what would she see in him? She’d had that life already, married to a soldier, bearing his child. He could give her nothing she didn’t already have. Whatever he could offer, it would never be enough.

When Fox finally made it to bed that night, she couldn’t stop thinking about Maxson, the look in his eyes, the tremble in his voice. He was . . . concerned? About her? What the fuck?

Okay, he’d said he liked her, he’d gotten hard when she yelled at him, and they’d fucked. That wasn’t exactly emotional stuff. So why did he suddenly care what happened to her? Yeah, okay, he’d asked her to stay afterward . . . and held her close to him, and maybe he’d called her beautiful instead of sexy or hot. But none of that explained why, when he’d said he was worried for her, she’d felt that strange longing inside of her, to be held by him. She WANTED him to care for her, and that was fucking terrifying. She wasn’t here to fall in love, she was here to get her son back, and hopefully destroy the bastards that took him. And, eventually, probably destroy the Brotherhood, too. It was beyond stupid to get feelings for him. It could compromise everything she was working for.

But . . . damn. That voice of his, wrapping around her like warm velvet? His strong arms and broad chest? He was all of the things she’d found attractive about Nate, but without the stupid bravado and confidence he could get any woman in bed. When he’d fucked her, he’d praised her, not expected her to tell him how incredible he was, and he worried about what she was okay with. When he made a mistake, at least he admitted it. He was nervous, and floundering, and completely uncomfortable with women- and it was absolutely adorable.

For the first time in ages, Fox rolled to her side, tucking her hands between her thighs, and cried. She’d thought her life was a mess before the vault, before the bombs, but at least she’d been on solid ground. Everything about this new world had her thrown off balance. Her husband was dead, her infant son taken. Only he wasn’t an infant, now he was ten. She was going to work with the Railroad to infiltrate the Institute and free synths- only the Brotherhood gave her a better chance of getting in. Then, she’d planned on being a double agent, betraying the Brotherhood to the Railroad once it had outlived its usefulness, but now, well, there was Danse, her friend, and to top it off, she might be falling for the leader of the whole damn outfit. How could she kill two people she cared about?

All she could do as she cried herself to sleep was pray to whatever was out there listening that it didn’t get anymore complicated.


	9. Woo who?

They gave her two days to get ready for the mission, to go into the Institute. She supposed they were giving her time to pack, or maybe make arrangements for her funeral or something. Nobody really expected her to live through it, to go inside and make it back out. Even Danse had said his goodbyes, telling her he hoped they weren’t necessary.

“If any Brotherhood soldier could get in and make it back out again, it would be you,” he’d told her.

She had no other orders, just to ready herself for the mission, so she spent most of her time wandering around the airport or through the halls of the Prydwen. That is, until Maxson came to find her. He told her he had information pertinent to the mission, highly classified, and escorted her to his office. She was surprised to find there actually was a mission, to bring an ex-Brotherhood scientist back to help them with a secret project. She was also somewhat disappointed. All of the talk to herself about not getting attached to Maxson seemed to have gone in one ear and out the other.

“Is that all, Elder?” She’d said when he finished the brief, watching as he sighed behind his desk.

“No, Knight Gree-“ he stopped, steeling himself. “Fox. If I might call you that?”

She nodded.

“I’ve been Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel for a long time, though not as long as it seems sometimes,” he said, standing, moving around to sit on the front of his desk. “In that time, I’ve faced a great many dangers. Super Mutants, Feral Ghouls- even a Deathclaw.” He tapped the scar on his cheek. “Yet, after all of that, facing all of those things and coming out of them alive, I’ve never been as terrified as I am right now.”

He looked up at her, and she knew he meant what he said. His chest trembled as he took a deep breath and stepped towards her, gently tracing his knuckles over her cheek. Her eyes closed as she took in the sensation of his rough skin against her cheek, and the tenderness in his touch.

“I’m completely out of my depths, Fox. I don’t know how to do this.”

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“I-“ he hesitated. “I . . . have an interest in you. Beyond what happened. Fox, I don’t want a one time thing, I don’t want us sneaking around and just letting off some steam together. I want more.”

She drew back slightly, gasping.

“So what are you saying?”

“I guess . . . I suppose I’m asking for your permission to pursue you.”

“Pursue me?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, I’m not foolish enough to believe that one night in bed means anything beyond what happened, and I’m aware that we aren’t exactly well acquainted with one another. But I’d like to change that. What I’m asking for is the opportunity to. To show you that I can be the sort of man you deserve.” He looked at Fox’s stunned face and began stammering. “I’m not expecting you to do anything, and certainly nothing you don’t want to do. I’ll put forth all of the effort, and continue to do so, until you agree to more, or you tell me to stop.”

She stood in silence, turning the words he’d said over and over in her head. He, the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, was asking for her permission to court her? If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears, she’d never have believed it. It seemed ludicrous. Yet there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder- what would it be like? What would he do?

“Okay.”

The word left her mouth before she’d even realized it, and judging from the way Maxson’s head snapped up, he hadn’t expected that answer, either. Immediately, he started stammering again.

“I . . . yes. Well. Thank you, I suppose. I . . . um . . . .”

She started giggling at his boyish excitement and nervousness, making him flash her a genuine smile.

“I always amuse you when I don’t intend to.”

“C’mon, Maxson. It’s part of your charm.” 

“At least I have some, then.”

She reached cup to gently stroke his beard.

“Sometimes, maybe,” she said, smiling. “When you aren’t being a total ass. So what now?”

“I don’t honestly know. I didn’t believe you’d say yes.” 

She laughed against his chest, making him smile, then spoke.

“Tell you what, Maxson. Why don’t we go down together so I can make a final inspection of the relay, and Proctor Ingram can talk me through the process? Then, we can head to a quiet little spot I know of and just . . . talk.”

Maxson nodded, and soon the two of them were side by side in the vertibird, making their way down to the airport. Ingram met them, surprised that Maxson had shown, but she took it in stride and lead the two of them around, explaining everything she could, as far as she understood it. The entire time, Maxson walked with his face firm, his hands held behind his back, remaining the stern Brotherhood Elder he was known as, but inside, his heart was doing flips. He could hardly stop looking at Fox, admiring her with disbelief. That he’d been with her, that she’d agreed to let him try to win her over astonished him. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he’d made a selfish decision, gone after something that made him happy instead of looking at life through the lens of the Brotherhood. 

When Ingram had finished, Maxson asked Fox to accompany him to take a good look at the perimeter, as an excuse for them to slip away. She nodded, biting back a smile until they were out of sight, slipping into one of the curling hallways in the abandoned section. Once they were tucked into an out of the way corner, she turned to him, and he allowed himself a wry smile.

“I’m still not certain this is real,” he whispered, touching the side of her face gently. “It seems so unlikely that someone like you could exist in this world.”

“Well I’m real, Maxson. I promise.”

They spent the next hour or so asking each other about their lives, the way they’d grown up and how they’d been shaped by it. She was surprised to find that Maxson didn’t remember a lot of his life before the Brotherhood, even his early days as a squire.

“I’ve blocked it out, I suppose. I was a very different person then, unsure of myself and where I fit.”

She looked up at him, running a hand up his chest. “What changed?”

A wry smile twisted his mouth as he tapped the scar on his cheek. “This. When I had to face the deathclaw, everything just seemed to fall into place in my head. I knew who I was, what I had to do.”

“Not unlike my situation, I suppose. I KNOW what I have to do, to save my son, bring him back from the Institute, and make a new life in this world. Every day that goes by, it’s harder to remember who I was before all of this. It seems more like a dream than anything.”

She turned away, not wanting him to see the tears springing to her eyes.

“I just don’t know what’s supposed to happen after all of this. I mean, I can’t exactly pick up where I left off. My husband’s dead, my son’s not   
an infant anymore- I don’t know if he’ll even know who I am, or want to go with me. And where am I supposed to go with him, if I manage to get him out? I can’t make him the home he deserves, I can’t give him the life I dreamed about . . . there’s just this endless wasteland. It all just seems so . . . futile, I guess.”

“Believe it or not, I sometimes feel that too, and I’ve never known anything other than this world. But then I remember- humanity deserves a chance. Whatever world we’re in, we deserve the opportunity to try and make it a better place. Maybe one day, we’ll actually succeed.”

“You’re young enough to be idealistic.” She smiled at him, and he returned a frown.

“I’m not that young.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “When you were born, I was already two centuries old.”

He laughed, carefully wrapping his arms around her from behind. He was a little surprised, but thrilled, that she allowed him to do so, leaning back against his chest. For a few moments, he basked in the happiness of it, in the comfort of her body against his. Then he sighed.

“I suppose we should return to the Prydwen. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you have things to do.”

She turned in his arms, reaching to put her arms around his neck and pulling him down so she could kiss his cheek. After she did so, she traced a finger lightly over the scar on his cheek.

“For what it’s worth, I like this, you know. It gives you character. Reminds me that, whatever else you are, you’re still human.”

She lead him out of the area they were in, and they rode back to the Prydwen in silence. 

That night, as she went to go to bed, she noticed several recruits glancing at her with barely concealed smiles or giggles. It increased the closer she got to her bunk, until, finally, she understood why. Next to her bed there was a hastily tied bundle of flowers, clearly gathered from the research station. They were slightly smushed, as if they’d been tucked underneath someone’s coat, or behind stacks of documents. A folded piece of paper was tucked among them, and when she opened it, there was note.

“Best of luck, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

-M


	10. Desperate

Fox wandered through the rubble, trying to make her way to the front of the airport ruins. How long had she been gone- a few days? A week? All she knew was that she wanted to be as far away from the Institute as possible. She’d known it might be bad, but she’d never expected anything like what she’d found.

Somehow, she made it to the airport gates, finding bright spotlights focused on her. There was yelling- her name, calling for Ingram, telling someone to ready a vertibird- but none of it really made sense to her, and none of it mattered. She was alone, more alone than she’d ever expected, and she would never be reunited with her son.

She must have passed out, because she had no memory of returning to the Prydwen or making it to the infirmary. Still, there she was, stretched out with an IV in her arm. Cade was across the room, his back turned to her until he heard the rustling of her trying to sit up. He rushed to push her back down.

“Hold on there, Greenwood. You’re not finished here. I still have a few more tests to run, and I want to make sure-“

“Maxson,” she croaked, her throat dry. She cleared it, licking her lips to try again. “I need to see Maxson.”

“I realize you’re eager to share your findings, Knight, but-“

“Knight-Captain Cade.”

The med officer turned on his heel, immediately saluting the Elder.

“I’m here to escort Knight Greenwood to my quarters for debriefing.”

“That really isn’t necessary, Elder. “Besides she-“

The Elder leaned in, scowling. “Are you disobeying orders, Knight-Captain?”

“No sir. Right away, sir. I’ll get her prepared.”

The older man scurried around the room under Maxson’s watchful eye, making the final notations he needed and removing Fox’s IV. The entire time, Maxson noticed that Fox never looked directly at him, only stared blankly past him, or focused on her hands in her lap. She didn’t even flinch as the IV was taken out. She seemed lost, utterly shattered, and it broke Maxson’s heart.

When she was finally released, she followed behind Maxson, her head down and hands hanging limply at her sides. She didn’t even know what time it was, for god’s sake. Her entire world had just shifted for the second time, and she had no idea how to deal with it. As they approached his doorway, she let Maxson slip his arm around her without protest, gently guiding her inside. As soon as the door was closed, he pulled her against his chest, holding her tightly and kissing her forehead.

For several long moments, she did nothing, just let herself be held. Then, her brain finally caught up. She raised her arms, putting them around Maxson’s waist, and buried her face in his chest. He smelled like salt, leather, and soap, and he was real, solid. The next thing she knew, she was sobbing. Great, choking gasps wrenched from her throat, tears pouring harder and faster than she’d ever thought possible. Through it all, Maxson held her. When her sobs had died to soft hiccuping sounds, he rubbed his hands over her back gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was soft and tender, and when she looked up at him, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek. She pressed her face into his chest again, shaking her head.

“It’s awful. Like a nightmare I can never wake up from.”

He lead her carefully to the bed, easing her down as he sat beside her.

“Fox, what is it? What’s happened?”

“Sean . . . he’s not . . . he’s . . . .” She swallowed hard. “I knew he wouldn’t be a newborn any more. I thought he was ten.” She leaned against him, letting him stroke her hair. “Maxson, my son is sixty. Sixty years old. More than twice my age!”

Her lip quivered as she started shaking her head again, like it would make everything she’d just been through undo itself. If she could only be that lucky.

“That’s not all, Maxson, and. . . ,” she looked up at him, tears filling her eyes again before she could manage the words. “He runs it! He’s the head of the Insitute! They . . . they stole my baby, and they brainwashed him, and now my only son, my sweet boy is the nightmare that the Commonwealth detests! He’s the fucking evil I’ve been fighting against!”

“My god. Fox, I’m so sorry.”

He held her while she wept, unable to find words of comfort for her. What could he possibly say that could make the pain any better? Her son, her entire reason for getting into the Institute at all, was the man pulling the levers. He was irrevocably lost to her, in purpose and in age, and they could do nothing. It was even more devastating than finding out he was dead.

He took her face in his hands, tilting it upward to meet his gaze.

“I promise you Fox, those bastards at the Institute will pay for what they’ve done. We will take them down, we will destroy them so thoroughly that they will regret every innocent life they’ve taken.” His voice softened. “I know it won’t bring your son back. But, at the very least, we’ll ensure that no one else ever has to go through what you’re feeling right now.”

She nodded, biting her lip to stop the tears.

“Maxson . . . is it alright . . . ,” she sighed, biting back her discomfort. “Can I stay here? I don’t want to have to face anyone else tonight.”

For one breathless moment, he thought his heart had stopped. He’d wanted it, he’d dreamed about it . . . he’d even considered asking her tonight, but thought it might be inappropriate. Yet here she was, asking him, wanting to receive his comfort as much as he wanted to give it to her.

“Of course.”

“Do you mind if I shower?” She asked him timidly.

He shook his head. After what she’d been through, he couldn’t blame her. Even without the issue of her son, if he’d been in her place he’d want the same thing, to wash the filth of the place from his skin and pretend it had never happened. He stood, crossing to get her a fresh cloth and towel. As she took it from him, she opened her mouth, hesitating slightly.

“Do you have anything I can borrow? To sleep in?”

He gave her a single nod, reaching back into his storage locker to pull out one of the white undershirts he always wore. As she disappeared into the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the bed, considering everything she’d just told him. She’d had assignments she’d been given, but he was hardly callous enough to ask if she’d completed them. It was likely she’d forgotten about them completely, given the nature of the information she’d gained. He didn’t know if she’d left in such a way that she’d never be able to return, or if that was still an option, and he didn’t know if she’d gotten any useable intel. For that matter, he didn’t even know how she’d gotten out. When they’d told him she’d returned, they only said they found her wandering out near the airport, with no mention of how she’d gotten there.

His thoughts were interrupted by her emerging from the bathroom, her damp red hair hanging in her face. With a sigh, she brushed it away. She’d never looked so small- and not just because of the way his t-shirt nearly swallowed her, hanging to her knees. Usually, she stood proudly, her back straight, a commanding presence that belied her small stature. Now, her shoulders were slumped, hands twisted together as her head hung down. She looked completely defeated. He wanted to walk to her, scoop her up into his arms and carry her to bed, kissing away the memories that troubled her, even if it was just for the night. Instead, he stood, offering her the bed. She crawled beneath the covers, but when he moved to walk away, she grabbed his hand, pulling him back. When he turned to face her, she tugged him down, towards her, pulling his arm around her waist and leaning up to kiss him softly.

He nodded.

“Give me a minute?”

She released his hand, watching without speaking as he moved to turn off the lights, then returned to stand beside the bed. She heard the quiet sound of a zipper as he moved to take off the suit he’d thrown hastily over his boxers and t-shirt when he’d heard she was back. He’d been asleep at the time, but he’d asked to be notified immediately, regardless of the time. He’d needed to know as soon as possible that she was okay, that she’d made it in and out in one piece, and now, he was glad he’d asked.

When he was ready to get in bed, she scooted to the edge, giving him room to climb in in front of her. He did so, facing her, and felt her arms wrap around him before he’d even settled completely. As she pulled him on top of her, one of her legs wrapped around his, her foot rubbing against the back of his calf.

“Fox, we don’t-“

She pressed a finger over his lips, shushing him, then kissed him. When she spoke, her words trembled.

“I need to feel something, something that’s not pain and sadness. I need to remind myself that I’m alive, I’m real, and that there’s something here that’s worth living for.” Her kiss ghosted across his lips. “Show me that there’s a reason. Show me I need to survive.”

Her mouth pressed hard against his even as he felt the wetness of her tears, and he poured everything he had into kissing her. He loved her, he loved her, oh, god, how he loved her. Everything about her. She was fire, and steel, the oncoming storm and the broken glass of a thousand hurts. She was phenomenal, enchanting- everything he’d never known he wanted and nothing he’d ever expected.

Her body lay warm beneath his as he scattered kisses across her chest, and the softness of her skin seemed like a miracle. She’d looked wonderful in his shirt, but it was nothing compared to the beauty of her nakedness, or the sound of her breath in his ear, burning with desire for him. Every freckle on her skin was a star, and he the astronomer, charting the constellations. If she gave him the chance, he’d drown himself in her happily, he’d give her everything.

She held him close as he moved inside of her, letting his presence fill her senses and erase everything else. For a little while, nothing existed but him, and her, and the pleasure he gave. He was kind and tender, gentle in a way her late husband had never been. He was exactly what she needed, and, while the moment lasted, she let herself pretend that things were different. No Railroad, No Brotherhood or Institute, just the two of them. He could love her. She could spend her life beside him. A child or two, a happy life, not the nightmare she was living in.

It couldn’t last, she knew that. Tomorrow, she’d be the double agent again, he’d be the leader of the organization that ran in opposition to most of her basic ideals. She’d tell him that she’d had no chance to complete her missions, and make arrangements to head back in. Before she did, she’d make the same basic report to the Railroad, get dressed down by Desdemona, and then continue forward. Before everything ended, she’d have to kill her own son, possibly one of her best friends, and almost certainly the man she might be falling in love with. 

But tonight, she decided, she would take comfort in the illusion. It was all she had left.


	11. Moving Forward

She woke to warmth, a body against hers, arms wrapped around her. A gentle voice in her ear.

“Fox? Are you alright?”

So kind. Open. Like she really mattered to him, and he wanted her to be okay. It was nice, but it made everything hurt so much worse. She said nothing, only looked into his eyes, letting him lean in to kiss her. It was a slow, tender kiss, like he was afraid of moving too fast for her, of pushing her too far and hurting her. The kind of kiss she’d always dreamed about.

And it had to come from him, of all people.

Five more minutes to pretend, she decided. Until she left this room. Then everything would be normal again. Except nothing ever would.

“I’m alright, Maxson. Still a little upset, but I can’t change what’s happened. All I can do is move forward.”

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and was surprised by his hand on her back, his body moving to curl around hers as he propped on his elbow.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Fox. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”  
His fingers traced down her spine as he kissed her shoulder. “You’re a phenomenal woman, I just don’t want you overdo it.”

She turned to face him, and the way he was looking at her nearly broke her heart. So vulnerable, so much affection, emotion she’d never have believed he had in him when they’d first met. He loved her, he wanted her . . . and he had no idea who she really was. She was going to break his heart in a million pieces, and she couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

An anger rose inside of her, that she’d been left here, in this position. She wanted to rail and scream, curse her late husband for marrying her, curse her son for becoming the enemy. The Brotherhood could change, they could learn to accept that synths were people, dammit, and the Railroad could learn that maybe some technology shouldn’t be in just anybody’s hands, that, just like humans, synths could be dangerous, too. But it would never happen. If the bombs hadn’t taught people respect and care, nothing would.

“I need to brief everyone. I mean, update them on the status of the missions. Which is nil, by the way.” She informed him as she moved to dress. “All I got was the shock of seeing my son runs the Institute.”

“You’ll be forgiven.” He took a deep breath. “Fox? Did you . . . ?” He didn’t want to bring it up, but she seemed in the mood to talk about it this morning.

“Yes, I’m going back. As far as they’re concerned, it was one big, happy family reunion.”

He smiled, moving to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her. Placing a gentle kiss to her temple, he chuckled quietly.

“See? Phenomenal. To face that, and not give away your disgust . . . absolutely incredible.”

If anyone had an opinion of the two of them leaving Maxson’s quarters together, they kept it to themselves. Maxson lead her to his office, where they met Ingram, Kells, Quinlan, and Cade. With a gaze of stone, she told them everything she’d learned, earning her a few gasps and curses. Kells wanted plenty of assurance that she remained loyal to them, to the point that Maxson snapped at him, telling him to learn his place. When the meeting was over, Ingram made it a special point to approach her.

“I can’t imagine how painful it must be for you, to learn your son is the one behind the greatest enemy we’ve ever known.”

“It doesn’t matter who it is. They still have to be stopped.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Look, I’m just concerned, and I don’t mean about your loyalty. You’ve been through a lot in a short time. Just . . . don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

She nodded, speaking quietly. “I appreciate the concern.”

One more person who probably wouldn’t be alive by the time this was over. That was the thought that occurred to her every time someone greeted her, every time someone asked a question, every time someone smiled. By the time she’d made excuses to head out to the Railroad, she’d started a tally of the blood she’d have on her hands.

Maxson went with her to the airport, giving her a “private briefing” before she left so he could say goodbye. As soon as they were alone, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest.

“I’ll miss you, you know,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I worry every time you leave. You’ve proven yourself more capable than any other soldier I’ve known, yet I find myself concerned every time you leave.” 

He leaned down, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her more tenderly than she’d thought any man was capable of.

“I want you to come back to me. I . . ,” he hesitated for a moment, then leaned his forehead against hers. “There are things I need to tell you, but it’s not the right time, I know. When you’re back, when all of this is over-“

She stopped him with a kiss, one that was rough and hard, full of fire. Whatever he wanted to say, she couldn’t let him. She couldn’t afford to hear it.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

He nodded, then watched her as she disappeared in the labyrinth of hallways. 

She cried, silently, almost the entire way to the church. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. It was supposed to be easy- she’d get in their good graces, learn their secrets, use them to get her son back. Then, best case, she never saw them again. She’d return to the Railroad, and they’d take the Institute down, freeing every single synth. Eventually, maybe, they’d have to tackle the Brotherhood problem, but she’d be long gone by then, living a new life, settled and happy.

Deacon met her at the doorway, everyone standing behind him with bated breath, looking at her. But only he was close enough to see the tears.

“Charms, you okay?” He whispered, and she shook her head.

“Nothing is how we thought it was. It’s- it’s all insane.”

She briefed them on what she knew, what had happened since she’d left. Of course, she left out everything with Maxson, only revealing the Brotherhood’s plan to wipe the Institute out, synths and all. When she was done, Desdemona took a deep breath, leaning against the table.

“This changes nothing. We still have to destroy the Institute, regardless of who’s running it. Only now, we have to move faster. We have to get there before the Brotherhood. They’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for.” She looked at Fox. “I know this is unfortunate for you, but you have to understand, your son is now the enemy. We can’t let personal feelings get in the way of what we need to do.”

Fox nodded, then left, moving to an area in the Commonwealth that was well away from either faction. When things were clear, she pressed the button on her pipboy that would relay her back into the Institute.

Hours later, she was in the same spot, running to the Railroad headquarters as quickly as she could. As she burst through the door, all eyes fell on her.

“Bunker Hill . . ,” she breathed out heavily, still panting from the run. “The Institute, they know about the synths. They plan to get them back.”

The usually quiet HQ burst into a flurry of activity, everyone arming or making radio calls. As they got them she ready for the coming battle, Deacon approached her.

“Boss, you’ve gotta get back. Do what you gotta do. They can’t know you warned us.”

She nodded frantically, heading back out. There was a courser she was supposed to meet, to help her “reclaim” the “stolen property”. Despite her son’s trust in her, many others within the Institute didn’t share his views. She knew if she didn’t appear fully behind the mission, they’d use it as an excuse to have her banished, and that wasn’t an option. There was no way to save her son, so she had to find a different purpose. Without one, she’d be lost.

As she approached Bunker Hill, she was surprised to see Brotherhood soldiers grouped nearby, ready to storm in. Upon seeing her, the leader grinned.

“Knight Greenwood! Here to assist?”

She nodded. “Here under Institute orders, undercover. Meeting a courser nearby.”

She gave them the locations of every Institute member she knew was there, then quickly made her way to the meeting. Unsurprisingly, they were ambushed by the Brotherhood squadron, and the courser and his synths were killed, clearing the way for her to head to the escaped synths. Once they were free, and she’d given them the information they needed, she left to meet with her son.

Maxson watched the battle from the Prydwen, knowing that somewhere below him, Fox was there, in the middle of it all. Once he’d gotten wind of the whole affair, it had taken every ounce of self control he had not to suit up and wade into the thick of it himself, just to find and protect her. It was pure selfishness, he knew that. She could take care of herself, and a minor skirmish like that wasn’t a reason for him to get involved. Even when the Railroad had showed up, it wasn’t appropriate, it would draw too much attention. That wasn’t something he wanted, not yet.

The battle was messier than he’d hoped it would be, but when the squadron leader returned, he confirmed that Fox had been there, and had helped them locate most of the major Institute cells. They’d taken out the courser she was meeting with, and then she’d disappeared to find the synths. She was excellent, the leader had told him, focused and driven. There was no doubt in his mind she’d succeed.

He was on edge when she didn’t return that night, even knowing that she’d probably had to stay inside. She’d assured him before leaving that she’d find Dr Li and be sure she returned, as well as record any information from their system that she could, and the battle would certainly have delayed that. But he missed her. She’d slept in his bed twice now, and already her absence felt like a hole. She filled that aching emptiness inside of him, the loneliness he’d carried since he was a child. For the first time, someone saw him as an actual person, not a figurehead, not a symbol, and not his last name. He didn’t have to be bigger than himself.

He knew what he wanted. He felt there was a good chance the Brotherhood would agree to it, so that wasn’t as much of an issue. She, on the other hand, might not be as amenable to the possibility. As his soldier, technically, he could make it an order. Most of his soldiers would consider it an honor. But she wasn’t like most of his soldiers, which was exactly why he liked her. It was also why he was going to have to pull out all the stops, and, despite how much he might enjoy the dance of drawing it out, do everything he could to gain her heart as quickly as possible.

This struggle in the Commonwealth wouldn’t last forever, and when it was over, he’d have to return to the capital. When he did, he wanted Fox by his side. Since she was his best soldier, she’d be the natural choice to leave in charge of the troops here. The board might agree to letting her come along, if she even agreed to it, but there would be a lot of questions. That is, unless there was a very, very compelling reason for her to remain by his side. He intended to make sure that there was.


	12. Double or Nothing

Fox returned to the Prydwen around noon, with a holotape in her hand. She also brought the news that Madison Li had agreed to return to the fold of the Brotherhood, and would make her way there as quickly as she could. All in all, it was a successful mission, and she was praised highly for her work. She was also going to remain in the Institute as an operative, and there was talk that she was being considered as a successor to her son, so she would remain deep in the loop of information.

When everyone else had left, Maxson walked to where Fox was standing and looking through the window, placing one hand on her hip. 

“I’m tremendously proud of you, Fox. You’ve done amazing work.”

She nodded in thanks, still staring out of the window. There was a slightly awkward silence, then Maxson cleared his throat.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight?”

Raising an eyebrow, she turned to look at him.

“Won’t that raise suspicion? I thought you weren’t supposed to fraternize within the ranks?”

“I often eat dinner in my quarters. No one will think much of it if you’re there, because they will assume we’re discussing classified information regarding the Institute.” He put a finger under her chin, getting her to look him in the eyes. “I’d like to spend the time with you, before you have to head back into the Institute.”

She felt that warmth inside of her that she so often did around him now, that fluttering of her heart that she knew meant trouble, but she couldn’t resist. Giving him a soft smile, she nodded.

“I’d like that too.”

As she headed to Maxson’s quarters that evening, she kept cursing her self, telling herself what an idiot she was being. She was supposed to show at the Institute again before nightfall, and instead, she was headed to dinner with a man who was supposed to be the enemy. There really wasn’t an excuse for her behavior. She knew what it meant, but she did it anyway, because she was weak, worthless, and desperate for attention.

At least she’d kept the presence of mind not to dress up. A part of her had flashed back to her days before the war, when she’d spend hours getting ready for a date, shaving, moisturizing, picking out the perfect outfit and accessories. The idea had given her a giddy thrill, and she’d been tempted. There was a silver dress tucked away in her footlocker for just such an occasion- she’d been gifted it by a man she’d rescued from Super Mutants a while back. Luckily, logic won out. It wouldn’t do her any good to pretend this was more than a diversion, and, besides, people might wonder exactly why she’d dressed so nicely to meet Maxson.

Apparently, he didn’t have those same thoughts. When she knocked, he’d ushered her inside so quickly she didn’t have a chance to notice, but once the door was closed and she took in the sight around her, she was absolutely floored. He’d rearranged everything, just to place a table and two chairs in the center of the room, with a centerpiece of lit candles as the only light. A radio was playing soft background music, the kind she’d loved dancing to before the war, and he’d actually managed to find a bottle of wine and proper glasses. 

Then there was Maxson himself.

She’d turned to talk to him, to ask him why he’d gone to all of this trouble, and there he stood, free of his coat, free of his Brotherhood suit- and dressed, instead, in a tuxedo. Suddenly, she felt very, very underdressed, a bright blush creeping into her cheeks. But it seemed he’d thought of that, too. He somewhat shyly handed her a silver sequined dress, then gestured towards the bathroom.

“I though you might want to change.”

His blush was nearly as deep as hers as she nodded, then took the dress. Once she had it on, she examined herself the best she could in his small mirror. It wasn’t the best fit, but it was a very, very nice dress, and it looked good. Too good for her basic ponytail. Carefully, she loosened her hair, letting it fall across her shoulders, and adjusted it the best she could. When she felt presentable, she opened the door and stepped out. If she’d had any doubts about how she looked, they were washed away completely by Maxson’s wide-eyed, astonished gasp.

“Fox . . . .”

She smiled, then moved to take his hand in hers, wrapping the other around her waist. Leaning into him, she began to sway slowly to the music. Though a bit clumsy to start with, Maxson soon caught on, his body moving with hers to the slow rhythm of the song. Several times he tried to catch her eye, wanting to tell her how beautiful she looked, how lucky he was, but she stubbornly kept her face pressed into his chest.

She couldn’t look at him, she just couldn’t, because looking at him would make everything too real. If she looked into his eyes, she knew she’d have to admit to herself that, despite her best efforts, she’d fallen in love with him, and if she was in love with him, something, somewhere, would have to break. She couldn’t be a Railroad agent in love with the head of the Brotherhood of Steel, she couldn’t be in the Brotherhood and be the mother of the head of the Institute, and she couldn’t be herself without any of those things. And not one of them lead down a path she wanted to choose.

Dinner, as it was, was a mostly silent affair, with neither eating much. Both were too scared, too nervous. Maxson was afraid that if he started speaking, he’d never stop, he’d tell her everything, how in love with her he was, how scared he was to let her go, even just back to the Institute. He’d tell her the truth about what a coward he was, to be unable to face the possibility of losing her or leaving her behind. Fox knew herself well enough to know that, if he tried to tell her he loved her, she do something really, really stupid. Either she would lie, leave, and regret it forever, or she’d come clean- about loving him, about working with the Railroad- everything. And then, he wouldn’t love her anymore, and she couldn’t face that either. The closer it drew to the time she’d have to return, the more both hearts ached, longing to be honest, even if it was the worst possible idea. The both had jobs to do, ones that required them to be kept apart, no matter how they might feel. 

She was celebrated when she returned to the Institute, officially named her son’s successor, despite a vocal minority objection. It wasn’t something she wanted, regardless, but like everything now, it was a hollow, empty victory. The Institute wanted to redefine humanity by locking the best and brightest away underground, creating a form of life that both they and the Brotherhood refused to see as such. The Railroad said free the synths, even if it cost innocent lives to do it, and the Brotherhood wanted to destroy them, with the same price. They were all stupid. Mankind had to define itself, and any sentient beings deserved to make their own choices about their future, with all of the information at their disposal, not with inconvenient facts tucked away to the side.

But what did she want out of any of it? Her, personally? Nothing. Not that they could offer. They could each dangle their own version of peace, but it always meant war, destruction of something they didn’t agree with. How is it that mankind always saw war as something that could lead to peace, when the opposite was true? War just lead to war. The only thing that could lead to peace was laying down your arms and seeing things from another’s point of view, but if life had taught her anything, it was how impossible that was.

As her son’s successor, it was her job to ensure the survival of the Institute. That meant independence, which meant taking the very thing that the Brotherhood needed to destroy the Institute. If she burned her bridge at the Institute, she lost the chance to help free the synths. It should have been an easy decision to abandon the Brotherhood, and it would have, before. But now . . . .

The synths the Institute sent out on missions weren’t the type she’d vowed to save. They were tools, lacking emotions. They didn’t cry, bleed, or curse. She’d killed plenty of them without a second thought, and would continue to do so. The same couldn’t be said about the members of the Brotherhood. Yet, in order to help the thinking, feeling synths, the Railroad had ordered her to do something that would result in the deaths of more Brotherhood soldiers than synths that would be freed. She shouldn’t have to weigh those lives against each other.

That night, instead of sleeping, Fox spent her time on the terminal she’d been given access to as the newly appointed Director. It wasn’t access to everything, but it was access to far more information than she’d been able to record on her first holotape, and she copied all of it. Three full holotapes worth of sensitive information. Tom had taught her a few tricks, too, and by the time the sun rose, she was gone, without leaving a trace of having ever accessed it at all.

This time, instead of teleporting close to the airport or the Old North Church, Fox went elsewhere, to a place she hadn’t been since shortly after coming out of the vault. When she’d gotten involved with the Railroad, and then the Brotherhood, and the Institute, her Minutemen had been all but abandoned. Garvey had been left in charge, of course, but the General had been missing in action for months now, only occasionally remembering to check the radio. Until now. She only hoped they’d got the message she’d sent out before she’d started the long task of copying the information.

Her answer came as soon as she stepped through the gates of the Castle, a familiar southern drawl calling her name.

“Been a long time since I saw you. How you doin’ Fox?”

She leaned into his outstretched arms for his offered hug.

“Alright I suppose, Sturges. A lot going on.”

She gave him, along with Garvey, a quick rundown of everything that had gone on, barring her feelings for Maxson. Then, she told them of her plans, and how she hoped to avoid as much loss of life as possible. When she was done, Preston Garvey took a deep breath.

“Damn. It sounds like you’ve been busy, General.”

“You have NO idea. Sturges, do you think you can find anything?”

“I’m sure something will present itself. Now, let me get my hands on those tapes.”


	13. Lost in You

Sturges had told her he’d need as much time as possible to get a good look at everything, so she did her best to hold the other factions at bay while he worked. The Railroad was a nonissue, since they were waiting on word from their inside operative, anyway, and the Institute had work that needed to be done inside, as well as a civilian that they wanted to recruit. The Brotherhood was so thrilled to have Doctor Li back they were willing to agree to almost anything. 

So, during the time that nothing much was going on, Maxson made it a point to spend as much time as he could with Fox. She accompanied him during nearly every inspection, to every meeting. There were a few curious looks, but, for the most part, it was ignored, even when Maxson began peppering in small gestures of affection. They were only minor things- a squeeze of her shoulder, his hand on her back as she passed by him- but they comforted Fox. She treasured every minute she was allowed to pretend things weren’t going to hell inside of her.

Maxson was thrilled she allowed him to be openly affectionate at all, once he allowed himself the freedom of not worrying about it. Though a part of him still cared about being seen as the formidable figure he’d once been, that part became smaller every day, with every time Fox smiled at him. It seemed to him as though he would never stop finding her charming, or tire of the way she looked at him. 

Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Until it wasn’t.

Kells had asked for a private meeting with Maxson, something not entirely unusual, but the fact that he had specified that Fox should be absent was enough to raise Maxson’s suspicions. He was well aware that Kells didn’t believe that Fox was loyal to the Brotherhood, especially after finding out that her son ran the Institute, though he couldn’t see why. Fox had done nothing to indicate she was interested in betraying them. She’d been a model soldier, despite everything she’d been through, one of the reasons he cared for her so much.

He walked into his office to find Kells already there, a look of deep disapproval on his face. The moment the door closed, he spoke, in tones completely devoid of kindness, or even the deference he was used to. He spoke to Maxson as if HE were the one in charge.

“Is there something you wish to share, Elder Maxson?”

He bristled at the tone, doing all he could to restrain himself.

“Not particularly, no.”

He moved to get a drink, but was cut off by Kells. He stood in front of him, arm outstretched, as if he could keep him from doing what he wanted in HIS room, on HIS ship, in HIS Brotherhood. Maxson gave him a look, nearly snarling at him.

“What is this about, Kells?”

“I’ll put it plainly. Do you have some sort of personal interest in Knight Greenwood?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Kells.”

“If it has the potential to put the Brotherhood at risk, it’s absolutely my business. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that the two of you have been . . . spending time together. She accompanies you everywhere. You speak to her of things that should be kept within the circle of the Brotherhood-“

“She IS in the circle of the Brotherhood. One of our finest soldiers, I might remind you.”

“That doesn’t explain some of the reports I’ve been getting. The two of you sneaking off down abandoned corridors? Her leaving your quarters early in the morning with marks on her neck, or spending the night entirely? And then the . . . lewd noises. I’ve been told it seems that the two of you are intimately involved.”

“You’ve had people spying on me?”

Maxson felt his grip on the glass in his hand tightening, and he put it down so it didn’t burst in his hand. The idea that anyone, ANYONE had the audacity to have him spied upon! He, the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, the last surviving Maxson!

“With all due respect, sir” he spit the last word, without any respect at all, “we know nothing of Knight Greenwoods motivations. If you are in the clutches of a spy-“

“Spy?” He laughed, completely devoid of humor. “Kells, do you have the slightest understanding of what the woman has been through? She went into what she thought was a bomb shelter, only to find out it was a sick experiment! She saw her husband killed, her son taken, right in front of her eyes, and, when she finally wakes up, she finds out that two hundred years had passed, and she never knew!”

“I understand, sir, but-“

Maxson rounded on him, looming over him in threat.

“I’m not finished. Because when she woke, her sole purpose, the only thing that kept her clinging to this pathetic wasteland existence, was to find her infant son. She gets a clue, finally, FINALLY, and he’s ten, but she can deal with it, he’s still her son. Only he’s not ten, he’s sixty, and he’s the head of the fucking Institute! Do you have the SLIGHTEST IDEA how traumatic that was for her?”

“Sir, that doesn’t excuse her from being a spy. If she is seducing you-“

“She’s not, Kells. In fact, it was me who instigated the situation.”

Kells looked at him, confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kells, do you not remember that I am the sole survivor of the Maxson lineage? As such, it is my responsibility to produce an heir. That heir MUST be the finest example of humanity possible. I owe it to the Brotherhood, and to my ancestors, to ensure the line will continue, strong and hearty.”

He paced in front of Kells, laying out the story and reasoning he’d prepared to present to the board, grateful he’d already planned it out. It had little to do with what he really thought or felt, but it was what he thought they would most readily agree to.

“As someone who was born prior to the war, and spent the past two decades tucked securely away in a bomb shelter and cryogenically frozen, Knight Greenwood’s genetic code is free of the defects and mutations common in today’s wasteland residents. In addition, in the society she lived in, her role was similar to the role we expect of the wife of an Elder, staying at home to raise the children while the spouse works. Therefore, I expect her to have no problems adjusting to such a lifestyle. I have made it a point to spend as much time as possible with her, in order to acclimate her to the idea of fulfilling that role. When we depart this area, I have full intentions of her accompanying me, in order to become my wife.”

He stopped in front of a stunned Kells, leaning over him slightly and taking advantage of his imposing stature.

“Generally, when an Elder takes it upon himself to find a mate, he doesn’t have to explain his intentions to those who report to him. I have graciously done so,in order to alleviate your . . . suspicions. But rest assured, Fox Greenwood is no spy seducing me for the Institute. I expect this to be the end of it, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Elder Maxson.”

“Dismissed.”

Maxson stood firmly, watching the man disappear behind the office door. One he was sure he was completely alone, he let his shoulders relax, breathing out heavily and downing the whiskey he’d poured out in one gulp. Hopefully, that really would be the end of it, and he’d be free to spend time with Fox as he chose. 

Meanwhile, Fox was curled in the bowels of the ship, bawling her eyes out. She’d been an absolute idiot. All of his sweetness, all of his vulnerability and pretty words, and it had only been an act. Just to force her into the same kind of relationship she’d had before.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

It’s not like she’d been eavesdropping, not intentionally. She’d just come by to see Maxson, and she’d heard shouting. Rather than intrude on something, she thought she’d listen for a minute to see if she could figure out what was going on. When she’d heard her name, how could she not stop and pay attention?

Now, she was pissed.

She gathered everything she had that meant anything to her and put it in a backpack, making sure she left all of the tokens Maxson had given her across her bed. With that done, she stashed it aboard a vertibird, telling the pilot she had one last thing to take care of before leaving. Then, she headed to Maxson’s room.

He let her in with a smile, probably hoping for a fuck, the prick. Well, he was about to get fucked in a different way altogether. Thank fucking god she’d taken the time to pull data from his terminal as often as she could over the last few weeks, because there’d be no getting it after tonight.

“What the hell have we been doing here, exactly?”

He looked at her, confused, and she continued.

“Because I thought what we were doing was trying to get to know one another, seeing if we were compatible. Not some sort of trial run for being your slave.”

He winced at the coldness of her words. “Did you overhear my conversation with Kells?”

“You’re damn right I did! What the fuck, Maxson? Why? Do you even know who I am? You think I’m this fucking pure, innocence thing, this pre-war treasure you can keep on a shelf, and I’m not! I’m a fucking human being, and a fraud! My ‘loving husband’ was the coldest, most cruel man that I ever met in my life, hurling insults at me like it was his job, and expecting me to shove his cock in my mouth at night. He had an obsession with porn that bordered insanity, and wanted me to be an extension of that, to the point that, after I had Sean, he refused to even touch me until I ‘looked normal again’, which, big fucking surprise, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED. My sex life existed only in fantasy, wishing that somebody actually wanted me, and listening to him jerk himself off in the shower, then deny it ever happened. I mean, fuck, as far as I know, he could’ve had a dozen kids running around somewhere. I don’t know that he wasn’t cheating on me, too. So don’t try to put me on a pedestal, act like I’m some kind of fragile thing! I’d stare a deathclaw in the fucking face before I let that shit happen, I’d tear open your goddamn chest and eat your fucking heart!”

“It wasn’t like that! I mean, it seemed to be, I had to say it, I had to give him SOMETHING. But it’s not how I really feel!”

“You expect me to TRUST YOU? Why would I do that? Maxson, I’m not fucking stupid! I’m not some bored, ignorant housewife!”

“You really think I don’t know that? You’re more than that. God, you’re so much more than that, and I haven’t got the slightest clue how to handle it. You think I don’t know you’re made of the strongest substances a human can be made of? Diamonds would break against you. Why the hell do you think I’m in love with you? I’ve never met anyone else with the same courage, the same tenacity. Willing to call me out when I’m wrong, to fight, to put me on the path I’m meant to be on. You are more a part of my soul than I am myself. Maybe that’s what they meant when they said I’d have a soul made of eternal steel. Maybe it’s you.”

“You know what, Maxson? It’s nothing but pretty words. Go fuck yourself.”

She ran, down the hall and out to the vertibird before he even stood a chance of catching her. All he could do was watch as she took off, feeling his heart shatter inside his chest.


	14. Hide & Seek

Maxson’s head jerked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Have you brought me news on Knight Greenwood?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

Maxson growled in frustration. “It’s been two weeks. She can’t have just disappeared. Search harder, and bring me ANY information out find. I don’t care how useless or irrelevant you think it is.”

“Yes sir.”

The recruit didn’t move, just stood there, staring at Maxson. He hadn’t exactly been a member of the Brotherhood long, but the man in front of him was NOTHING like the man he’d seen before, or come to expect from his reputation. His eyes were tinged red, rimmed with wide, dark circles, and his hair disheveled and sticking up in several different directions. Though it was only nine in the morning, he held a full glass of whiskey in his hand, downing it quickly and pouring out another as the recruit looked on. 

“Is there something else I can help you with, recruit?”

“No sir. I mean, yes sir. It’s this report. From Proctor Teagan. He says there’s urgent information inside, and he requested that you read it immediately. Sir.”

Maxson leapt from behind his desk, crossing to the recruit in long strides before jerking the folder from his hand. He thumbed quickly through its contents, then looked up at the recruit once more.

“Dismissed.”

“P . . . Pardon?”

“Dismissed, recruit!” He shouted. “That’s an order!”

As the door slammed closed, Maxson threw himself into his chair. He ran his thick fingers through his hair, then reluctantly opened the folder. God knows if he’d actually take in anything written inside. Since Fox had disappeared, he didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything. He hardly ate, he slept little to none, and, well, if the few times he did sleep he woke with his pillow damp and his eyes red, what of it? He missed her. There was nothing in this world he wouldn’t have done to have her back, to erase that whole horrible conversation she’d overheard.

As his eyes roamed the report, a few words managed to catch his attention enough to make him reread it, then go over it once more. When he was finished, he threw the report to his desk, taking his head in his hands. He wanted to believe it wasn’t true. He wanted to rail against it, to scream, to bury it deep and never think of it again. But it wasn’t possible. Instead, he found the nearest recruit outside of his office.

“Give me Paladin Danse’s last known location.”

Meanwhile, Fox was holed up in the Castle, going over all the information Sturges had given her from the Institute. He’d dived deep, there was no doubt about it, and had found plenty to interest her. Hopefully, he’d do the same with the information she’d brought him from Maxson’s terminal.

Maxson.

She didn’t want to think about him. What she’d thought was a terrible situation in which she might break his heart but had hoped to find some other way had turned on its head. Now she was the one with the broken heart, and she still couldn’t find it in herself to hate him. 

With a sigh, she threw herself back into the reports from the Institute. Sturges had managed to find a way in that didn’t involve teleportation, a forgotten drain that lead in from the ocean. It would be dirty, and they’d need plenty of rad protection, but it was doable. Now she just had to see if she could convince the Railroad to help them out. It would be a tough sell, because there was a strong likelihood that a good many synths might not make it out, but she had a plan for that, too. He’d hate her for destroying the Institute, but with a little luck, she hoped she could convince Sean to send as many as possible to evacuate. Though the organization and its ideals were toxic for humanity, he did care for his people, and he did care for her, to some degree. And if she couldn’t convince him to do it, hopefully her status as the new Director would give her access enough to sound an alarm, or something.

Secondly, she had access to a long list of escaped synths and their recall codes, as well as most of those still inside the Institute. She’d seen herself that the mind wipe usually done to escaped synths didn’t always lead to a peaceful, synth-friendly personality. With the list, any synths who were hostile could be dealt with peacefully, given a new identity. It would be invaluable in the days to come, she was certain of it. 

The list, however, gave way to the third interesting item. Apparently, a very close friend of hers was not, in fact, the human he thought he was. Since the Brotherhood of Steel had the same list, they were sure to make the same discovery any day now, and they’d hunt him down. She had to find Danse as quickly as she could, to keep him safe, and be certain he didn’t do something stupid. The a Brotherhood has been his life, and he’d always believed synths were abominations, less than human, and needed to be destroyed. Finding out he was one wasn’t exactly going to be easy on him. If she got there first, she at least had a chance of saving him, and convincing him that being a synth wasn’t the end of the world.

The first thing she did was hunt down Haylen, the only other person in the Brotherhood Danse would possibly trust. Though she was too late to be the one to break the news to Danse, Haylen gave her the only location he could possibly be, begging her to protect him. 

“I’ll do everything I can, Haylen. You have my word. I don’t want him hurt any more than you do.”

Then she’d set out to find him. Listening Post Bravo was a decent distance away, but Fox traveled like the hounds of hell were at her heels. For all she knew, they were, if you counted Brotherhood soldiers. Every step of the way she just hoped she’d get there first, and she hoped he’d listen to reason. 

The bunker was well hidden, half buried in a hillside and covered with overgrown vines. If Haylen hadn’t told her what to look for nearby, she might have missed it completely. Hopefully, that meant any Brotherhood soldiers searching nearby would have done the same. As she approached the door, her heart beat wildly in her chest, hands trembling with nerves. Robotic humans, radioactive beasts, a son twice her age who ran a group of scientists that had given up on helping the world? This was definitely not the life she thought she’d have, that was for sure.

It took some fiddling to get the elevator working again, but once it did, she descended quickly into the depths below, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on her thigh. When the doors opened, she saw nothing at first. Then several protectrons started shooting at her, making her dive for cover. Once they were dispatched, her eyes searched quickly for any sign of Danse, finally landing on a break in the wall. She headed over quickly, ducking inside and following the earthen tunnel until she reached a small, sparsely appointed room. At the center of it sat a bed, and on that bed was Danse.

As she approached him quietly, she realized it may have been the first time she’d ever seen him without his Power Armor. As far as she’d known,he slept in the stuff. But now it was conspicuously missing, leaving him in only his orange Brotherhood jumpsuit. She could see over his shoulder that he held his laser pistol, but before she could speak, he did.

“I know why you’re here.”

“Do you, Danse? Because I think you may have it wrong.”

“You’ve been ordered to kill me.”

“No.”

He turned to face her, and she moved to sit beside him on the bed.

“That’s impossible. Elder Maxson would never allow an abomination like me to live. I’m everything the Brotherhood stands against.”

“I didn’t come from Maxson. I have no orders. The information that you were a synth was given to me by . . . other means. The Brotherhood isn’t my only affiliation.”

“Ah. The Minutemen. I should’ve guessed.” He sighed. “Well, if you’re not here to kill me, why are you here?”

“To keep you from doing something stupid, like killing yourself, just because you believe the hype that synths aren’t supposed to exist. Because ‘supposed to’ or not, synths definitely exist, and you’re the greatest proof I’ve ever known that they deserve a chance at life. You’ve been brave, kind, loyal- you’ve cared more about people than some so-called humans I’ve known.”

“How do I even know how much of what I’ve done was really me, and how much was just images planted inside my head, programming to convince me I’m something I’m not?”

“Everything you did with me was real. That alone proves you’re worth your humanity.”

He fiddled with the laser pistol almost absentmindedly, thinking over what she’d said. It was true, even if it were only a little while that he’d actually been “alive”, he’d still done a great deal to protect humanity, even if he wasn’t exactly part of it. But there was still one problem.

“If Maxson finds out you didn’t kill me, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked for in the Brotherhood.”

Fox jumped up. “To hell with Maxson! I don’t care about him or anybody else who can’t see you’re not just a machine! You’re worth so much more than a pile of bolts, and that’s all they think you are.” She turned to face him, defiance written all over her face. “Besides, nobody in the Brotherhood has to know. You come with me, you can hole up in the Castle. Eventually, they’ll stop looking, they’ll leave, and you’ll be free.”

Danse chuckled, giving her a half smile before his face fell suddenly.

“But . . . you, and Maxson? Aren’t you . . . together?” She gave him a curious look. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at each other, the way you sneak off.”

“Maxson is . . ,” she sighed. “Things with Maxson weren’t what I thought.”

“I’m so sorry, Fox.”

She shrugged. “Hey, it’s what I get for falling for the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. I knew from the beginning it was a bad idea.”

“But you do care about him, don’t you?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cursed herself for it. This wasn’t what she wanted, it wasn’t why she’d come. But she couldn’t help it.

“I do. God, I love him, more than anything. But he didn’t feel the same, apparently. So now I get another broken heart, and he gets off with nothing.”

“If Maxson doesn’t love you, he’s a fool. You’re amazing, Fox.” He brushed the tears from her cheek with his knuckles. “I realize this is probably the worst timing possible, but, well, if I don’t say it now, I never will. I care for you, Fox. Back when I was in the Brotherhood, I never would have said anything. It was my whole life, and I was willing to give up the possibility of anything with you. But now . . . I don’t know what’s coming. I don’t know where I’ll go, or what I’ll do. But I know I’d like it to be with you.”

She looked at him stunned, and he shook his head.

“I’m not trying to replace Maxson. I don’t even care if you return my feelings, but I had to tell you, now that I have the opportunity. Maybe one day you’ll feel the same way, and maybe you won’t. But either way, I’ll be by your side, if you’ll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking so long. It’s nearly done, and I have it planned out, but I’ve been in a writing slump lately. Hopefully the last few chapters will come easier.


	15. Truths Revealed

Danse threw his arm around Fox’s shoulders, letting her lean into his chest and sob. How long they sat there, he wasn’t sure, but eventually her sobs quieted to gentle hiccups, then quiet sniffing. When, at last, she leaned back, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, Danse squeezed her against his chest affectionately.

“Come on, soldier. Let’s get to it.”

“Do I still have to call you sir?” She smirked at him, and he returned a gentle smile.

“Have you ever?”

She reached for his hand, squeezing it before linking her fingers in his. They entered the elevator with hope in their chests, their hearts a little lighter, but that hope shriveled into nothing as they exited the bunker. Maxson stood outside, eyes wide, flicking from one to the other, then down at their linked hands. Clinching his jaw, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Of course.”

Fox let go of Danse’s hand and ran towards Maxson, blocking his way, just as he raised his gun.

“No. NO! You can’t do this, Maxson, you KNOW him! He’s given his blood for the Brotherhood, he’s worked harder than anyone else, sacrificed so much. He’s not a mindless machine, any more than you or I! For God’s sake, Maxson, he was your closest friend!”

“One more mistake,” he said coldly. “That THING took advantage of the Brotherhood. He stood beside us, wore our clothes, ate our food, all while being the very thing we most abhor. He deserves nothing, nothing but death. He’s lucky I feel merciful enough to make it quick.”

“You do what you have to, Maxson,” Danse breathed, “but know that I knew no more of this than you did. Every ounce of blood I shed was real, and I’d do it all over again. Who, or what, I am hasn’t changed that. I still feel as strongly about your ideals as I always have, and, if you’d let me, I’d continue to fight beside you.”

“That’s not possible.”

Fox jumped up and down between the two men, waving her arms.

“Hi, I’d like for this NOT to end in death! You two . . . IDIOTS! Just LISTEN to me!” She took a deep breath. “We know damn well that Danse will never be accepted back into the Brotherhood. Even if Maxson allowed it,” she gave a significant look to Danse,” there are too many others who’d jump at the chance to kill him. But, Maxson, please. You KNOW he’s not a threat. He was ready to kill himself, he believed so strongly in the ideals you uphold. So . . . so just give him a chance, okay?”

She pleaded with Maxson, who felt his resolve quickly weakening. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to kill him any more than Fox wanted him to. Danse had always been a commendable example, a standard he held all other soldiers to, and he’d been a loyal friend.

“Fine,” he choked through gritted teeth. “As far as the Brotherhood is concerned, Danse is dead. Hand over your holotags.”

Danse did as he was told, and Maxson turned towards Fox.

“Do you love him?”

Fox stumbled backwards, clearly caught off guard.

“What?”

It was Danse who responded, a soft chuckle paving the way for his comment.

“Of course she doesn’t. I couldn’t possibly compare to you.”

With that, he turned, walking around the building to give the two of them privacy. Neither spoke at first, Fox too busy staring at the ground. Maxson, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Come back, Fox.”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

“I can’t.”

“I’m a wreck without you. I don’t sleep, I drink too much . . . I just want you back. I’ll tell everyone you killed Danse- you know they’ll believe it. You can get a promotion- I don’t even care if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I just want to know that you’re safe.”

“I’m safe, Maxson. But I can’t come back.” 

She took a step towards him, running her hand along the length of his arm. He squeezed her hand for a moment, then let go, and she reached up to touch his face. He wasn’t kidding that he was a wreck. He looked like he hadn’t trimmed his beard or even brushed his hair in ages, and his face was pale and thin, like he hadn’t eaten nearly enough since she’d left.

“We both know it couldn’t work. Not long term. Whatever I felt- whatever I FEEL- it’s not enough to make up for the differences in our life.”

“It could be. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever. I just want you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He grabbed her wrist, suddenly rough as he pulled her to his chest.

“I love you, Fox. Every beat of my goddamn heart calls your name. I don’t care what else there is, whatever is out there- we can face it together.”

He kissed her hard, teeth digging into her lip so deeply she swore she could taste blood, and he held her close. More than anything, she wanted to melt into it, to give in and let him have what he wanted. But things were in motion now that neither of them could stop, no matter how they might want to.

“I love you too, Maxson,” she gasped out, pulling herself away from him. “But this cant happen.”

She turned, managing to just make it behind the bunker before collapsing into Danse’s arms. Maxson stood, dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected any of this. Once he’d seen that Danse was a synth, he’d known something would have to be done, at the very least to keep up appearances. He had hoped that either he’d be unable to find him, or he’d have done the job himself. When he saw him not only alive, but with Fox, holding her hand like they were the ones in love, something had set off inside of him. He’d have killed Danse without a second thought, just for the crime of touching her, of loving her the same way he did. 

But then- they weren’t together. Fox had said she loved him, she clearly understood that whatever she had heard wasn’t completely true- but she refused to return with him. Why? What could possibly be standing between them they couldn’t overcome?

He turned, stepping back into the vertibird with his mind reeling. He knew she had a connection to the Minutemen, but that shouldn’t mean anything. They cared about peace in the Commonwealth just as much as the Brotherhood, and they wanted the Institute brought down just as badly. They didn’t care about technology, so they wouldn’t get in the Brotherhood’s way. The only people they might have conflicting interest with was . . . .

Maxson cursed himself as he flew the Vertibird back to the Prydwen. He should have guessed it sooner. It didn’t change the way he felt about Fox at all- but it damn sure changed his strategy for protecting the Commonwealth. 

In his hurt and anger at her loss, he’d been desperate to feel like he was doing something productive, and he’d wanted a target to spend his fury on. So he’d ordered an elite squadron of Brotherhood soldiers to ferret out the location of the Railroad. Once they were certain, they were to infiltrate their hideout and, in his specific words “terminate them all, with extreme prejudice”. 

They’d radioed him just before he’d left to say that they’d found them.

They’d be dead by tonight.

And, if he was right in his suspicions, Fox would be among them.

His boots rang heavily along the cold metal corridors as he ran to find someone, anyone, who might have information. It wasn’t until he reached Kells that he got word.

“The soldiers are carrying out their mission as we speak, Elder. The location was confirmed as the Railroad headquarters, and they will be attacking any moment.”

Panic gripped him. “I need to send word- I have new information. We need to all the mission off!”

“What information could you possibly have that would change our decision to terminate the Railroad?”

“Because, Kells,” he screamed frantically, “Fox is among them, goddammit! She-“ he pulled together the best lie he could think of as quickly as he could. “She’s infiltrated them, and has been spying on them, trying to gain information on their hideouts and process, to find where they filter the synths through! SHE’S GOING TO BE IN THERE!”

Kells looked taken aback, then shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry, Elder. They’re on radio silence, to not give away their positions.”

He screamed in fury, then rushed to get his power armor and board a vertibird. On his way out, Kells stopped him.

“Elder Maxson, what are you doing?”

“Going to get Fox.”

Fox stumbled through the entrance to the Castle, barely aware of what was going on around her. She heard a lot of chatter, and there was some scrambling around, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. Everything, everything about her world was falling apart.

Preston came up to her, carrying a holotape, but Danse tried to brush him off.

“She’s been through enough, Garvey. Let her have some rest.”

“With all due respect, sir, if the rumors I’ve heard are true, she’s going to want to take a look at this.”

She lifted her head, shaking it gently.

“Whatever it is, just tell me.”

“No, ma’am. You’re going to need to see this for yourself. And I suggest the three of us go and look at it privately.”

She let him lead her back to her quarters, leaning on Danse for support the entire way. Garvey popped the tape into the terminal they’d had rebuilt for her, then clicked a few buttons, quickly bringing up a screen full of words. She began reading it lazily, Danse looking over her shoulder, but the farther she read, the straighter she sat, and the tighter Danse gripped her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide, and, when she was done, she and Danse shared a look.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar figure burst through the doorway.

“Boss- Whisper-“ Deacon panted. “You gotta come right away.”

She stood, hand gripping the back of her chair.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the Brotherhood. They’ve attacked HQ.”

She didn’t give it a second thought, just grabbed her gun and ran. By the time she reached HQ, nothing was left but smoking ruins, and a very few survivors. Among them was Desdemona.

“Those goddamn bastards. They killed Glory. They killed most of our best agents.”

Fox cursed herself. If she’d stayed on the Prydwen, she’d have known about this, she could have warned them. But she had to run away, to protect her stupid heart. She felt like an utter fool.

“We can’t let this go, boss. We gotta hit ‘em back.”

“For once, I agree with you, Deacon. We owe it to Glory.”

Fox nodded her head. There was nothing to be done now, the chips had been tossed and they were falling wherever they wanted. Life in the Commonwealth was never going to be the same again.


	16. Brothers in Arms

Deacon and Tom pulled on the Brotherhood suits that Fox had smuggled out for them, while she gave them a last minute run through of proper procedures and how to address the soldiers they encountered. They were only going to get one chance at this. If anything, anything at all, went wrong, then it was likely they’d die.

Taking a deep breath, they stepped around the corner, following the path that lead into the Cambridge Police Station. Before she could even speak, the men stationed outside were congratulating her.

“Hey, Greenwood! Nice job on downing that synth bastard! Can’t believe he was hiding in our ranks the whole damn time!”

“Yeah, and congrats on making Paladin. Of course, it was only fair you take the rank of the guy you killed.”

Fox sighed, trying to summon an appropriate smile.

“Thanks, boys. Hey, uh . . . I got some new recruits here. Picked ‘em up wandering near Danse’s hideout. Saw me take him down, wanted in on the action.”

“Hell yeah! Can always use fresh blood. You any good with a laser pistol?”

It took Deacon a few seconds to realize he was being spoken to.

“Oh hell- I mean, uh, yes sir!”

Before any more could be said, Fox rushed them into the station. Inside, they were barely noticed, passing through and heading to the roof without the slightest comment. Just before they stepped outside, Deacon stopped them.

“So we’re all good with our orders, right? Everybody know where they’re supposed to be?” He looked between them, then continued in the same whisper. “I’ll hang back, while you,” he nodded toward Fox, “take the pilot out. Then Tom will take over flying. When we get to the Prydwen, I’ll bluff my way aboard. Using Whisper is our last resort. She’ll just draw more attention. Once we’re aboard, Tom, you keep the vertibird ready to go. We’re gonna have minimal time to get to a safe distance before that thing blows, and she’s gonna go big, too.”

Things aboard the vertibird went as smoothly as they possibly could, meaning no one was alerted to come after them. They stowed the pilot’s body at the back, afraid dropping it would draw unnecessary attention, covering it with an old blanket. And when they asked for permission to board, well, Deacon was as convincing as ever. Fox breathed a sigh of relief when they’d docked, thankful the guards were at a minimum. Probably running low on men, she thought, after the mess at a Railroad HQ. They may have taken most of the best out of commission, but they’d lost plenty of good soldiers, too.

Fox lead Deacon down into the bowels of the ship, thankfully without running into anyone who recognized her. It seemed most of the soldiers she’d trained with had either been reassigned to Cambridge, or were out of commission due to death or injuries. Well, they’d all be in the same place soon enough.

Once they’d reached the area they needed to plant the bombs, Fox pushed them all in his hands, along with two stealth boys.

“Whoa- wait, Whisper? What are you doing?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got something I need to take care of last minute. If I don’t make it back to the vertibird before you do, leave.”

She turned, immediately slipping into the shadows and disappearing. What was probably only seconds later, but felt like hours, she was standing outside Maxson’s door, praying he was inside. The knob turned slowly, her hands shaking as she pushed the door open, then slipped it quietly closed behind her.

And there he was.

He stood behind his desk, poring over papers and not even noticing her until she cleared her throat. He still looked disheveled, though perhaps not quite as badly as he had before, and the room stunk of alcohol, though he seemed completely sober.

The second he laid eyes on her he crossed the room in giant, hurried strides, lifting her into his arms in a bear-like hug. Once he’d put her down, he grabbed her face, kissing her again and again as tears flowed from his eyes. He’d never really been a crier, but this felt like a damn good reason.

“Fox, I thought you were- when the Railroad . . . but you’re not! You’re here, you’re alive-“

“And I’m short on time. So, please, just listen to me.”

He nodded, drawing back to look down at her.

“You’re a liar, Maxson. To me. To the Brotherhood. To every single soldier you’ve ever sent on a mission, the ones who never returned. But it’s not something you have to keep doing.”

She sighed heavily, wondering exactly where to start. This was a hell of a mess, and she had no time.

“You’re not Arthur Maxson. Arthur Maxson died in a deathclaw attack when he was thirteen- far too young to be sent on a mission, even if he was the Brotherhood’s golden son.”

He stared at her, saying nothing.

“The Brotherhood knew damn well that they’d fucked up. Whatever blood ran through Arthur’s veins, he was still just a boy, a flesh and blood boy who they’d sent to die. But he was also the only source of hope the Brotherhood had, at the time. The one thing that could rally every branch, every offshoot, every distantly affiliated group together into a formidable force once again. So they did what bureaucrats do in these sorts of situations. They lied.”

She swallowed, looking him up and down. Only a few minutes left, and she had to convince him.

“They found Arthur Maxson’s half-brother, the result of a long, lonely deployment, known about but never spoken of, save to send the monthly allowances to keep his mother quiet. He was older, sure, but he had the Maxson genetics, the Maxson face. So he- YOU- were taken away, hidden under the guise of healing from the attack. They cooked up a story that would make you look like a hero AND explain the sudden growth, the difference in looks. Just a little surgery to fix things, a few enhancements. Then, suddenly, shy little Arthur’s become the baddest bitch in town. Took on a deathclaw and lived. Took out a super mutant at ‘fifteen’- though I suspect it was closer to twenty-one, wasn’t it?”

Maxson cleared his throat.

“You know this because . . . ?”

“I copied all the data from your personal terminal.”

He nodded, seeming to think for a moment.

“We are both liars here. You have no intention of helping the Brotherhood. Indeed, you are intent on bringing us down, destroying us and everything we’ve strived to create. I suspect that’s why you’re here now. Are you to distract me while the deed is done?”

“No. No, Maxson. I’m here to ask you- to BEG you- please call a truce. The Minutemen, the Brotherhood, the Railroad, we can all work together. We don’t have to fight one another. We’ll take down the Institute together, we’ll work to build a new world. And then . . . then, maybe . . . .”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, knowing how unlikely it was. He reached up, catching a falling tear on his thumb to brush it away.

“Fox . . . even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. They’d string me up. I was put here to do one thing, and if I fail, if I change the order too much, they’ll remove me just as quickly as they put me in.”

Her hand covered his. “Then come with me. Run away. To hell with the Brotherhood.”

“They’d look for me. They’d find me. Moreover, they’d find you, and they’d kill you and all of your allies.” He sighed heavily, tenderly stroking her cheek. “I couldn’t allow that.”

“But, Maxson- I . . ,” she looked down. “You’ll die if you stay here.”

“Then, at least, you’ll be free. They won’t bother looking for you, they’ll withdraw. They might come back in a few years, but I have no doubt you’ll be more than prepared.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

He leaned down, kissing her deeply, but gently. When it was over, he pushed her gently out the door, leaning to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t look back.”

She ran all the way back to the vertibird, her heart aching like it never had before. Deacon had only just climbed aboard, and yelled at Tom to get going as fast as he could without even noticing Fox’s look of distress. Seconds later, half of the Prydwen was shooting at them.

“I may have forgotten to turn the second stealth boy on at the last minute,” Deacon explained.

Fox barely noticed the gunfire. She was in her own, dark world, and wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to come out again. When she heard the explosion several moments later, she began to sob, and didn’t stop until well after they’d landed.

Maxson stood staring at the door for several minutes after it had closed. Inside of him, a war was raging. Everything a Fox had said was true- he’d been called on just to take Arthur Maxson’s place, and he’d done so proudly, and was just as proud of the things he’d accomplished as the Elder. But, god, he’d never loved anyone or anything like he’d loved Fox. Staying here, dying, if it came to it, would protect her, but he’d never see that smile or hear that voice again.

He reached for his holotags, hesitated for half a second, then pulled them off, tossing them onto his desk. They were followed quickly by his armored coat, his jumpsuit, and his boots. Then, he pulled on the only clothes he had that weren’t a uniform, and took off running after Fox.

He made it to the flight deck without a problem, jumping into a ready vertibird. No one questioned the Elder taking off by himself, something that might have made him laugh, if he hadn’t been so worried about catching up with Fox. Already the vertibird was a small dot, and getting smaller. If he had any hope of catching her, he had to leave NOW.

He pushed the bird for everything it was worth, managing to keep Fox in his sight as the engine roared, gaining speed. By the time it was all the way open, he could barely see her, but that quickly changed. He was gaining on her. Whoever was flying the thing didn’t know it’s full capabilities, something he was incredibly grateful for, and he smiled broadly.

That was when the world exploded. All he knew was a bright heat as the vertibird pitched forward, spinning out of control. In his haste, he hadn’t bothered to strap himself in properly, and he watched, disconnected, as he and the vertibird parted ways. Not even so much as a parachute, he thought bitterly.

The last thing he was conscious of was the sting of rushing wind, and the ground approaching, hard and fast.


	17. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TW- suicidal thoughts

It had been weeks since the destruction of the Institute, months since the Prydwen went down. Yet Fox couldn’t seem to muster any joy. Everyone wanted to congratulate her, no matter where she went, but all she could feel was a sick emptiness, a loss so great she felt she’d never be whole again. 

She’d lost her son. She’d never really had him, not from the second the Institute had taken him from Vault 111, but now, now there was NOTHING. Not even an old man who vaguely resembled her. Before the bombs, he’d been the only good thing she felt she ever had, her reason for going on, despite the pain. And he was gone. Wiped completely from the earth, as if he’d never existed in the first place. Just like the rest of the Institute- now a smoking crater, a warning for those who thought they knew what was best for humanity. It said that humans wouldn’t submit, they would not sit idly by while anyone presumed to plan their course for them.

But Fox was lost. Stumbling blindly through the Commonwealth, doing her best to avoid the smiles and the gifts. There was nothing she wanted, nothing she could have that would replace the piece of her heart that had gone down in flames with the Prydwen.

Maxson.

Even when she knew she’d lost her son, she’d had him. He’d stood by her side, he’d comforted her, even when she thought no comfort could be found. He’d held her in those strong arms, and, for the first time in her life, she felt like she had a home.

Now he was gone.

There was no doubt of his death. She’d held out for weeks, hoping that by some miracle he’d made it through. He was strong, he was resourceful. But no miracle had occurred. Deacon brought word that he’d been confirmed dead by the Brotherhood, his coat, holotags, and uniform all near the body, proving that, once and for all, Elder Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel had left the world. 

That was when she’d come here, to the little home she’d made in Diamond City. It was secret, isolated, unlike the Castle, where she was expected to run missions, or Sanctuary, where visitors poured in to offer her their thanks. The only people who knew she was here were her closest friends. They took turns coming to check on her- Piper with outside news, Danse with words of hope and encouragement. But it was Nick she appreciated most. Nick brought her the alcohol that kept her numb, even if he did refuse to bring it in the quantities she’d have preferred.

It was Nick who stopped by on that dull, dusty afternoon, when she was wondering for the millionth time if going on with life was really worth the pain. He let himself in, like always, and found her curled in the darkest corner of the place, cocooned in blankets, her face streaked with tears. For a guy who didn’t breath, he sure was good at exasperated sighs.

“You gonna keep this moping up for the rest of your life?”

She shrugged beneath the layers.

“Why not? Might not be that long, anyway.”

If he’d had hair, he’d have run his hand through it in frustration. As it was, he grabbed his hat between his skeletal metal finger and thumb, sweeping it backwards and using his palm to wipe against his forehead. When he’d placed his hat back in its proper position, he kneeled beside her on the floor.

“Listen, doll . . . I’m not one to talk about holding a candle. Hell, I spent two hundred years obsessing over the death of a woman who wasn’t even mine. But . . . do you think that, just maybe, it’s time to face the world again?”

She said nothing, just stared at him from inside the blankets.

“You’ve got a lot of people out there who care about you, Fox. We don’t want to see you wasting away. There’s a lot of life still out there for you, if you’d just come take it.”

Still, nothing.

With another sigh, Nick got to his feet, brushing the dust from his knees.

“Fine. You wanna mope and waste away, I’m not gonna stop you. But I’ve got two important things to say.”

He straightened his coat, making a show of delaying his speech so that he knew he had her full attention.

“First of all- I’m not bringing you anymore liquor.”

Her eyes grew wide as the top of her blankets were tossed back.

“Nick-“

“No.” He stood firm, holding up his hand. “I mean it. I was okay with you drinking away your sorrows for a little while, but this is getting out of hand. So, from now on, you wanna drown yourself in alcohol, you can get your ass out and get it for yourself. The fresh air will do you some good.”

She frowned at him, making a face of disgust.

“And the second thing?”

She could’ve sworn he was holding back a grin as he tossed something small and metallic towards her.

“Remember that? Key to Kellogg’s place, up by the stands?”

She turned it over in her palm.

“What about it?”

“I’ve found something. Won’t bore you with the details, but, well, I’ll just tell you that there’s something inside there you’ll wanna see.”

“What is it?”

This time, Nick did grin, letting out a huff of laughter as he reached for the door.

“You wanna know? Go and see for yourself.”

He disappeared behind the door, leaving Fox alone again in the dank space. For a long time, she just held the key, thinking, not moving. Then, with a sigh, she held it up to the light.

Kellogg was gone. He’d been done away with long before she’d even found Sean, and she and Nick had scoured the place from top to bottom looking for clues. Last she’d heard, after the Mayor was dealt with, Geneva had gone in and cleared it out to get it ready to sell. So anything in there would almost certainly have to be new.

Her lips twisted in thought as she put her head on her forearm. Unfortunately, that meant she got a nice whiff of herself. God, when had she last taken a shower? She smelled like death.

Reluctantly, she peeled the blankets off of herself, heading to the bathroom. Her first order of business was brushing her teeth. It tasted like a molerat had vomited in her mouth, then died and rotted on her tongue, and it felt worse. As she brushed, she examined herself in the mirror.

Suddenly, she understood why everyone had been worried about her. She looked more like a skeleton than a human, dark circles rimming her sunken eyes, her cheeks as hollow as the grave. Even her once lustrous hair had dulled, looking closer to grey than her striking pale red. Looking in the mirror was like looking at a ghost. Maxson wouldn’t have wanted that.

The thought tore through her heart with a fiery ache, and she had to grip the sink to steady herself. In all of her sadness and mourning, she’d managed somehow to separate it all, feeling it, but through the barrier of disassociation. Now it was real, present, and raw. Everything inside of her ached for him, for his voice, his arms, his smell. 

She stepped into the shower, sobs echoing against the concrete as she tried to clean herself. In the end, she’d just leaned against the wall beneath the water, wailing until the tears had run out and the water ran cold. It had never been possible, realistically, but she’d fallen anyway. God help her, she had the worst taste, the worst timing.

It took her quite some time to get dressed after that, stopping periodically to collapse from grief or exhaustion. She didn’t bother with anything complicated, just her old mechanic’s overalls, since no one would see her anyway. Thankfully, it was late by the time she was done. That meant no curious neighbors, no one around to ask her where or how she’d been.

She crept up to Kellogg’s old place with the same skillful caution she’d employed a thousand times for the Brotherhood, making her way into a super mutant den or nest of feral ghouls. A memory snuck in, unbidden, of the time she and Maxson had gotten overrun by ferals in an abandoned neighborhood. They’d had to lock themselves in a tiny bathroom to wait for backup, which hadn’t come for hours, and had ended up falling asleep together in the bathtub. She still remembered the feeling of waking up against his chest, the warmth of his body against hers, the rough impression of his beard on her cheek. It was one of the first times she’d let herself think that he might be her forever.

Emotion flooded through her body, making her hands shake as she reached for the lock. Rather than give the game away, she stopped, leaning against the wall to take a few deep breaths. She was okay, she was fine, she could make it through this. When steadiness returned, she carefully, slowly, unlocked the door and turned the knob.

It wasn’t the room she remembered, and it wasn’t empty. The secret room Kellogg had made had been opened up again, creating a larger ground floor room. Though it was sparse, there was furniture. A dresser lined the far wall, with a radio on top playing soft, sad music. There was a couch in front of her, empty, she noted as she stepped forward, and with threadbare cushions. There was a floor lamp beside the ladder that lead to the loft, but it was off. Instead, the only light came from the once secret room. As she stepped towards it, she stopped suddenly, her stomach dropping and her heart pounding like a wild thing inside her chest.

The light came from a half broken desk lamp, clamped to the edge of a side table that had definitely seen better days. There was a chair, old, worn, with a mismatched ottoman in front of it. Like most of the furniture, it looked as if it had been pulled from the garbage somewhere. Patches of duct tape crisscrossed the surface of both the chair and the ottoman, but that wasn’t what captured her attention. 

There, sitting in the chair, was Maxson.


	18. Reconcile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut*
> 
> *TW- suicidal thought mentions*

“Maxson.”

The word fell out of her mouth before she could stop herself, before she could think to make some excuse for being there or wake him up. She only knew it was him, REALLY him, despite the subtle differences. She’d know him anywhere. Those arms, those shoulders, there was no changing that, no hiding the way his breath sounded when he slept. She’d dreamed that breathing so many times, and now it was real.

Taking care to avoid the heavily wrapped and splinted leg, she made her way to kneel beside him, tears streaming from her eyes. Without thinking, she reached to touch his face, fingertips tracing along the new scar, the one than ran across the bridge of his nose and beneath his eye. It was wrinkled and puckered, large enough it completely engulfed the old scar he’d had, the one supposedly from the deathclaw attack, and down into the area his beard would have been, if he hadn’t been clean shaven, only the barest shadow sprinkled across his chin. He twitched in his sleep, her light touch tickling the sensitive skin, and she called his name again.

“Maxson . . . .”

Her thumb traced across his bottom lip as she leaned forward, watching his eyelids flutter like a miracle. To her, it was. He’d been dead, yet here he was before her, injured and scarred, but flesh and blood and very, very real.

Suddenly his eyes flew open as he gasped for breath. She was there, right there in his field of vision, the only thing he could see. His eyes darted around her face, taking in the full lips, the round cheeks, the pale grey eyes he knew so well. As realization dawned on him, he reached a hand up to touch her face, tentatively, like he couldn’t believe she was real. As his fingers met the solidness of her flesh, astonishment washed across his face.

“Fox?”

She nodded, and all at once his mouth was on hers, his hand cupping the back of her head. This had to be a dream, it wasn’t possible that she was really here, he knew, but even if it was, he was going to enjoy the touch he’d missed these long months. A dream of her was better than none at all. It wasn’t until he felt the scrape of her nails against his scalp, biting delicately into his skin, that he began to believe it could be more than a dream. When he bit her lip and she yelped and bit him in return, that’s when he knew, this was real. She was here, somehow, after all this time.

When, finally, they both came up for air, those steel blue eyes of his stared straight inside of her. He shook his head, slowly, as if he were trying to clear away any last possibility that it wasn’t real. Then he took her face in his hands, running his thumbs against the sunken cheeks. There were scars on his hands, too, and along his arms as far as she could see.

“My god, Fox. What happened to you?”

She scoffed, wiping her tears away on her sleeve.

“I thought I’d lost you, that’s what. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and I’ve spent most of the last few months drunk off my ass. More than once, I thought about ending it all.”

His fingers slipped into her hair, running his fingers through it and tugging gently.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I wanted to look for you. I wanted to find you. I just didn’t know where to start. And this,” he gestured to the bandaged leg, “meant I couldn’t exactly run all over the Commonwealth.”

“They said you were dead, Maxson. The Brotherhood had a ceremony and everything.”

He nodded. “Just as I’d hoped. Though, for a while, I wasn’t sure if it would end up true. Things didn’t go exactly as I’d planned.”

He sighed, leaning back into the chair. He grunted in pain as he shifted, and she reached to help him, but he brushed it away. Instead, he removed his good leg from the ottoman, and did his best to shift the other farther over, then he gestured for her to sit. Once she was settled, she put a hand on top of his knee, the good one, and he placed his on top of it.

“It took me about thirty seconds to realize I wanted to come after you. I’d guessed pretty quickly what your plans were aboard the Prydwen. If you were going to take the Brotherhood down, destroying it would massively cripple them, and the best way to do that was use it’s very composition against it. An explosion like that provided me with a unique opportunity. There’s a reason Brotherhood soldiers never remove their holotags: sometimes, a body is so utterly destroyed that the holotag is the only way to identify it. If I left behind not only my holotags, but anything else that identified me as Elder Maxson, anyone looking for me would assume I was dead. An explosion that hot would leave little else behind.”

She squeezed his hand in encouragement, and he continued.

“When I boarded the vertibird to try and come after you, you were already almost out of sight. Unfortunately, that meant that I was close to the Prydwen when it blew. Everything was chaos. It rocked the vertibird, threw it forward, and I was in such a rush . . . I was thrown from the bird. No parachute . . . just a long fall. I figured I was done for anyway, despite deciding to come after you. I just shut my eyes and prayed it would be quick, and as painless as possible.”

His eyes met hers, and both of her hands wrapped around his.

“I don’t remember hitting the ground. I just knew I woke up and everything, EVERYTHING hurt. I could barely move. This leg,” he tapped the thigh of his wrapped leg, “was broken so badly I figured it would be a loss. I was just lucky enough to have a stimpack land within crawling distance, so I drug my way over to it. I knew if I didn’t do something soon, I’d be dead, found by ferals or worse. But the healing agent doesn’t exactly set bones. I had to do that myself, the best I could. That’s why it’s like this. Bones healed too quick, in the wrong places. I had to have it broken again, and I’ll probably still have a limp. But it allowed me to find cover and scrounge weapons from the wreckage.”

He stopped, closing his eyes and leaning back against the chair, like he was too tired or too emotional to continue. Fox pressed his knuckles against her lips, kissing them tenderly before reaching out and smoothing the front of his shirt. She trailed her fingers along his chin, then traced her thumb over his eyebrows, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were grateful, full of love.

“I didn’t know where to go. I wanted to look for you, but making it to the Castle seemed unlikely in my condition, and I knew if I showed up at the Railroad, I’d never get a word in. Somehow, I made it here. One of the guards saw me, the condition I was in, and drug me inside. I stayed in jail for a few weeks- mostly because it was the only place they could keep me while I healed. Then one day, some guard walks in, tells me he’s got a place for me. Strange guy, always wore sunglasses.”

Fox scoffed to herself, then smiled when he gave her a questioning look.

“Deacon. A friend of mine. I’m not sure if I should thank him for getting you here, or kill him for not telling me. And you’ve been here since?”

He nodded. “The doc was brought by once or twice, but other than that it’s just been me.” 

There was a long pause as he looked down. When he spoke, it was tentatively, like he was afraid he’d upset her.

“I hear you finally took out the Institute.”

“Yes.”

Another long pause.

“I missed you, Maxson.”

“I missed you, too.”

“I was lost without you. I did everything I set out to do, and I didn’t care at all. None of it meant anything without you. I was . . . I wanted to just do away with myself.”

He pulled her towards him, then into his lap, where he wrapped his arms around her firmly.

“God, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

For a long time they held each other, saying nothing. It was a relief, a paradise just to be near one another again. He pressed his face into her neck, taking in her smell- the one that, to him, meant comfort, love. He never wanted to lose that again.

He looked up at her, a smile on his lips, and opened his mouth.

“Marry me, Maxson,” she blurted suddenly, stunning him into silence. Then he grinned, nuzzling soft kisses against her throat.

“You stole my line.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Absolutely.”

She cried against his cheek, and he kissed the tears away as fast as they fell. There would be no more sad tears from her, not if he had anything to say about it. The only tears that left her eyes would be because she couldn’t contain her happiness.

Somewhere in the process, her mouth found his, and soft pecks became hot, devouring kisses. Her tongue stroked against his as his hands searched her body, gripping tightly at everything he’d missed. Once, and only once, he admonished her for letting herself get so thin, weakening her already fragile seeming form. She just smiled, tugging off his shirt and pulling the zipper of her coveralls down.

“I’ll never break, Maxson. I’m your soul of eternal steel, remember?”

With a chuckle and a lusty growl, he pushed the coveralls down, letting them pool on the floor at her feet. As he took in the bareness of her form, a smirk drew up the corner of his mouth.

“Nothing underneath?” She shook her head, fire in her eyes as she straddled his thighs. “Perfect.”

He loosened his own pants, shoving them hurriedly down just far enough to free himself, then grabbed hold of her hips. In no time, he was buried deep inside of her, her hands gripped tight at the back of his neck. She moved slowly at first, gently, lingering in the simple pleasure of his closeness, the way he felt against her walls and filled her so completely. He was perfect. He was alive. And he was hers. As she rocked across his lap, he kissed her throat, calling her name again and again between breaths. His hands played against her skin, committing every inch to memory. She began moving faster, her breathing hot pants against his skin as he moaned beneath her. Before long, his hands were firmly on her ass, lifting her, urging more speed. This wouldn’t last long, he knew, but, by god, they had the rest of their lives.

Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders as she threw her head back, his name on her lips. While she bucked across him, he leaned forward to take her firm, ripe nipple into his mouth, sucking it like it was the most delectable thing to ever hit his tongue. As he began tracing circles around it that made her gasp in pleasure, her rhythm faltered for just a moment, and then she was bouncing hard and fast atop him. Heat swirled tight in his stomach, and his fingers dug bruises in her skin.

She cried his name loud as she felt his release hot inside of her, her hips continuing a slow grind against him. As he came down from his post orgasmic high, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, his hands sliding tenderly along the plane of her back. Leaning into his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck. If she had her way, she would never let go of him again.


	19. And they lived . . . .

Maxson hummed in pleasure as he wrapped his arms around Fox’s waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. She paused for a moment, letting her elbows rest on the edge of the station she’d been working at, as he kissed his way upward. His teeth nipped at her earlobe, drawing a quiet gasp of pleasure and soft shudder.

“Max, I’ve got to get this done. We’re sending out another group tomorrow to look for stragglers, and they need stimpacks.”

She’d fallen into using the name he chose for himself easier than she’d expected, though it probably helped that it was a diminutive of what she’d formerly used. Still, it was something different, a new name for a new start, but not too distant from his origins. When they’d married, the day after she’d found him in Diamond City, he said he wanted her last name, since she was his future now. The Brotherhood was a life long gone, and one he wanted to forget.

“You’ve made plenty. Even the General needs her rest- and maybe a little fun beforehand.”

He slipped a hand into her hair, brushing it away from her neck and catching it tight in his fist to tug gently. In the last month, since they’d settled into their new home in Sanctuary, he’d learned that was a weakness of hers, a way to talk her to into bed when she needed a little push. Sure enough, her head tilted back, letting his mouth wander her throat while she leaned against him.

He’d been accepted easily into the fold of her friends and found family, with only a select few knowing his real identity. To everyone else he was just “Max”, a stranger she’d met out in the ‘Wealth and taken up with. Sure, it was a whirlwind courtship, but she’d been through a lot, and so had he, if the burns and scars across his body were anything to go by. Life was short, and you took joy where you could find it.

He pulled her into the bedroom, slipping her now unbuttoned shirt off of her shoulders as he pushed her onto the bed. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to the feeling of a soft mattress and clean sheets, or the joy of having her beneath him or beside him every night.

“You’re a devil, Max Greenwood,” Fox smiled as he leaned over her. “Will you ever let me finish a task without dragging me to bed?”

“Not a chance,” he hummed as he pulled the straps of her bra from her shoulders. “I spent far too long without this beautiful body against mine, and I intend to make the most of every second I have.”

He peeled the tight pants from her legs, throwing them to the side with the rest of her clothes before standing to undress himself. She watched, eyes wide, at full attention. Sure, sometimes she’d have preferred to undress him herself, but he liked it when she watched him, liked the hungry way her eyes roamed his body, and the eagerness she responded with as he crawled on top of her.

And she was VERY eager today, pulling him tight against her and wrapping her legs around him before he was even on the bed completely. As her teeth grazed across his Adam’s apple, his ready cock slipped between her folds.

“Jesus, Fox,” he gasped as he began moving inside of her, “you’re so fucking wet already.”

She moaned in his ear as she angled her hips, letting him push deeper inside.

“Guess I was just ready for my husband to fuck me.”

“God,” he moaned in pleasure at how tight she was around him, how slick. “I’ll never get tired of you calling me that.”

“Good, because I’ll never stop.” She arched her back beneath him, digging her nails into his shoulders as he bit against her neck. “Not until my dying breath . . . .”

She gasped aloud as he took up a punishing pace between her legs, moaning and calling his name. When he put his hands behind her knees, jerking them upward to her chest to hit the deepest part of her, she suddenly found herself falling completely undone around him. A primal growl rose in his throat at her feral moans and lustful cries, the sight of her red hair tossing back and forth against the pillow almost too much for him to stand. 

“You have never looked sexier than you do right now,” he panted, his hips snapping hard against her. “Just the look in your eyes is almost enough to make me cum inside you this second.”

She gave him a simpering smile, flashing her tongue before taking her bottom lip between her teeth with a coquettish whimper. Her hands cupped her breasts, pushing their soft weight together as she teased her nipples, and that was all it took for him to lose the last lingering thread of control. He thrust inside of her as deeply as he could, hands fisted tightly in the sheets while she lay beneath him, relishing the hot burst inside of her. He’d never lacked in quantity, but this, this felt like she should be overflowing, his thick cum dripping out from between her legs.

He cursed beneath his breath as he disentangled himself from her, his body heavy from the pleasure she’d given him. What a strange world he’d come into. Born the bastard son of one of the most important men in the country, raised in the squalor of unforgiving streets and merciless wasteland. Then, suddenly, elevated to the importance of his father, by sheer accident, and responsible for the future of an entire organization. The same dumb luck had brought into his life the beautiful creature next to him, and again the trajectory of his life changed. 

As he nested himself behind her, he buried his face in the heavenly scent of her hair, holding her as tightly as he dared. Moments like these, he thought, the ones that were now a daily occurrence, they made it all worthwhile. He’d do it all over again, and he’d do it sooner this time, so they never wasted a moment missing one another.

“I love you, Fox.”

She turned in his arms, tangling her legs with his and slipping a hand into his hair as she nuzzled against his chin. Sometimes she missed the beard, but she’d live without it, if it meant they were together. She’d spent enough time without him, thinking he was dead, to know she never wanted that again. 

“Love you too, Max.”

She sighed against his chest, letting him stroke her hair as she drifted towards sleep, utterly content. This was the life she’d always wanted, the love she’d dreamed about all those nights when her husband raged, or forced himself upon her unwilling womb. Even after Sean, when she’d earned a reprieve from his demands, her life hadn’t felt like this, like everything was exactly as it should be.

“Max?”

Her voice, slurred with drowsiness, slipped into the crack of his consciousness, rousing him slightly.

“Hmm?”

“I forgot to tell you . . . I need you to go ahead and start working on that other bedroom.”

“M’kay, Fox.” He yawned widely, kissing the top of her head. “Any special reason why?”

She curled into his chest, a tight ball of the most perfect thing he’d ever known.

“Cause we’re gonna need it for the baby.”

His eyes flew open, certain he couldn’t have heard what he thought he heard, but when he looked down at her, she wore a cocky grin. Sticking her tongue out from between her teeth, she laughed, then threw her arms around his neck. He held her close, stroking a hand down her back as he sat somewhere between laughing maniacally with joy and choking up with tears. When she leaned back, he saw her eyes wet with tears of her own, and let his come too as he took her face in his hands. The kiss they shared was wet with their tears as he ran a hand over her stomach.

“Already, Fox? So soon?”

She nodded. “Guess you’re pretty potent down there.”

He chuckled a little. “The Brotherhood would’ve been proud.”

“Shut your fucking mouth about them! You know the rules.”

“Yes, I do.” He kissed her in apology. “If they have to be spoken of, never, ever, ever in bed. Forgive me?”

Kissing the tip of his nose, she replied.

“Yes. THIS time. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

There was a brief pause as he rolled to his back, her body now nestled against his side. Her fingers played in the hair on his chest, tracing over the bare patches that marked his scars from the accident. He’d felt somewhat self-conscious about them, at first. They were red and raw and ugly, a mixture of burns and gashes that dotted his chest. But she didn’t care. In fact, one night, when he confessed his worries, she’d told him he ought to be proud of them, because they proved he’d survive anything to get back to her. That had certainly changed his perspective.

Her voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“Mama Murphy says it’s a girl.”

“You think she’s right?”

Fox shrugged. “She was right about everything else. Even you.”

“I thought she was off the chems, now.”

“She is. Don’t worry, it was the first thing I asked. She just told me ‘Honey, there’s some things you don’t need chems to see. The first is that you and soldier boy are so hot for each other, you could start a fire. The second is that you’re pregnant . . . and it’s gonna be a girl.‘ Then she went on her way like she does, laughing at something none of the rest of us can see.”

He thought about it for a minute, fingers trailing on Fox’s arm.

“God, I hope it is a girl.”

“You don’t want a boy?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Fox. I’ll love it just like I love you, no matter what. But a girl?” He smiled faintly it the dark. “I’d love to have another little you to spoil.”

“What if she looks like you?”

He scoffed. “Then god help her.”

She slapped his arm playfully, then kissed him quickly before settling back down beside him. After a few moments, she spoke again.

“A girl could be good. I’ve had a boy, even if he did end up being a total asshole.” Maxson laughed beside her. “I’m serious, though. I’ve done the baby boy thing. I’d love to have another, of course, but a girl would be . . . different. And different would be nice. Something else to separate the life I had from the one I have now. And, you know, despite the war and wasteland, the mutants, and the lack of conveniences I once took for granted, I prefer this one. Because in this one, I have you.”

He smiled, wrapping his body around hers. He’d never known a life besides this one, in the dust and ruins left from a war no one could ever have won. But he’d bet everything he’d ever had that, if the shoe were on the other foot, he’d feel exactly the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and for all your kind words! It’s been an honor to write something that so many have enjoyed.


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